Page 73 of The Viper
Welcome to the real war, Lucas Dane. We'll see you soon.
The world narrowed. My blood went cold, then hot, adrenaline spiking through my veins. I read it again, trying to process, but my mind was already moving—tactical, calculating, prioritizing threats.
"What does it say?" Lexi whispered.
I handed it to her. She read it, her face going pale. "Who?—"
"I don't know," I said, my voice tight. "But we need to go. Now."
"Go where?"
"Back to Dominion Hall." I pulled out my phone, already dialing Noah. "We need to figure out what the hell is going on."
She stood, her hand gripping mine like a lifeline. "Lucas, I'm scared."
I turned to her, pulling her close. "I know. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You hear me?"
She nodded, her eyes wide.
The phone rang once, twice. Noah picked up on the third ring. "Lucas?"
"We've got a problem," I said. "Someone just delivered a message. We're coming back. Now."
There was a pause, then Noah's voice, sharp and all business. "I'll have the jet ready. Get here fast."
I ended the call and looked at Lexi. Her face was a mix of fear and trust, and it twisted something deep in my chest.
"Let's go," I said.
We walked quickly back to where the car was waiting, the quiet street suddenly feeling less like a refuge and more like a trap. My hand stayed at the small of her back, my eyes scanning every shadow, every doorway.
The note burned in my pocket like a live coal.
Welcome to the real war.
Whoever they were, they'd just made their first move.
And I'd be damned if I let them make a second.
25
LEXI
The night didn’t end when we boarded the jet.
It just changed shape.
Lucas sat across from me again, one arm stretched along the back of the seat, his expression unreadable. The envelope that had shaken him so completely was tucked away in his pocket now, but its echo stayed in the air between us.
The engines hummed low, steady. The cabin lights dimmed to a soft gold, wrapping everything in false calm. I watched him while pretending not to, studying the places he held tension—the tightness in his jaw, the stillness in his shoulders. Every line of him looked composed, but I’d learned enough to recognize when something underneath was ready to snap.
I should’ve been afraid. I was afraid. But not of him.
I was afraid of how quickly I’d fallen into believing that danger couldn’t touch me as long as he was near.
The realization felt childish, and I hated that.
He caught me looking. “What?”
