Page 131 of Hell and High Water

“That was his fatal flaw, I think. He pulled all of us together as a merc team, but he always veered toward doing things himself. When it was said and done, he couldn’t help going back to that, I think.”

“It just seems so hopeless. If he couldn’t do this, how can I?”

“Main difference is that you aren’t alone. You don’t try to do it alone, either.” Tell joins us, running a reassuring hand down my back.

“True. And from what I’ve read so far, we may not have any Sinful left to worry about.” I flip through, showing them the references Damon made to the members he suspected had been killed or had each other killed.

“She’s right,” Evan’s voice echoes from the office. It’s a cue for us to file into the room, the three of us staring around wide-eyed at the disastrous mess strewn across the conference table and the desk. Evan has been busy.

“I’ve zeroed in on a few key deaths over the years. They don’t seem connected at first, but cross-referencing them with ancestry and property deeds, I think I’ve got a pretty good picture of what’s left.”

Evan rises, a bit of a wild look on his face as he waves us over to the table. “Sparing you the long-winded details, I’ve narrowed it down.”

He points to several separate piles in sequence, all topped with old photos of men and women, some simply cutouts of obituaries.

“Avarice, back in the sixties. Alaya’s grandfather shot him at his Egret Ridge mansion. No successor. Ire, or Fury, the police commissioner at the time, offed several years later. Unknown cause of death. Jump ahead a couple of decades and we have three in a row, who I think might be Voracity, Hubris, and Spite.”

“That matches what my dad said. He suspected he was running the ship by himself for a short time, or that only a couple of other members were left.”

“So who the fuck has been giving us orders?” Tell scoffs. “And are we certain that Devonde isn’t one of them?”

“Good question,” Evan mutters, guiding us back to the mountains of research splayed out before us. “We know Damon, Sloth, is dead, and that someone hired a shooter to kill him.”

He clears his throat, pausing. “Sorry, Hellena.”

“Don’t be. It's the truth. And I didn’t really know him.”

Although I am starting to, slowly, through his journal.

“So that leaves us with one left. From several references I’ve found, Ardor, or Lust, as it were, sort of fell silent over the years. Like the whole line just faded back out of sight. Huge public events, entertainment type events seemed to show some signs of their handiwork, but nothing concrete. Which makes me think they could still be around, lying low.”

“And that doesn’t factor in Rachelle or her role in any of this.” Gavin rubs his jaw, his eyes tracking over the information laid out in front of us.

“Too much we don’t know, as usual,” I sigh, pacing.

“It’s fair to assume that Sanctum Harbor has just been drifting for a few years. It makes sense that it would take time for a lack of leadership to show, for holes to develop. Especially with a fairly capable city council running everyday life. At least until now. Every member including the mayor vanished over the past two weeks.” Evan gives Tell a concerned look as he says it.

“Not MIA. At least not the mayor. He’s dead,” Tell confesses, lowering his eyes. In a heartbeat, I’m at his side, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s okay, Hella.”

“No. It’s not. He was your father. What happened?”

So they fill us in on the details of their escapade with Ora, where the Block stands, infiltrating Vanderberg’s mansion. I try my best not to lose my shit when they let slip how close they came to getting caught.

“Where’s Ora, then?” I let the question distract me from the clenching feeling in my chest at their reckless endeavor.

“She headed back to the compound for now to relay the news to Clive.” Gavin is sitting with his arms crossed, unreadable throughout the retelling.

“Speaking of which, has Xavier said anything about the Sinful or his dealings with them?”

“Ora said he’s cagey about that. But he's not keen on anything Sinful, either.”

“I guess we’ll have to take her word for it.” Evan grimaces. “In the meantime, I can keep digging. I’d like to read your dad’s journal, Hell, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. But where does that leave us on what to actually do about Marco, about any of this?” An overwhelming sense of dread starts to tug at my stomach. All of this info and we still don’t have a plan of action.

“Well, what do you want to do, Hell?” Gavin asks, crossing his arms. At first, it almost seems patronizing, a rhetorical question.

But then I look around at each of them.

---