Page 133 of Wilde and Deadly

Dom huffed out a breath. “Awesome. Climbing. Love that.” But he followed.

Davey moved swiftly, grabbing the cold metal rungs of the ladder, eyes locked on Sullivan’s back above him as he climbed. The wind whipped around them, carrying the distant sounds of the city.

“Sully!” he called out, but the wind snatched his voice. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

But Sullivan showed no sign of slowing. He reached the top of the ladder, hauling himself onto the narrow walkway with a grunt. Davey cursed under his breath, pushing himself faster. His leg ached, but he ignored it.

As he neared the top, he heard Sullivan’s voice, raw with anger and pain. “You selfish fuck. How could you?”

Davey emerged onto the walkway just in time to see Sullivan lunge at Brody. The two men grappled, teetering dangerously close to the edge. The steel grating creaked ominously beneath their feet.

“Sully, stand down!” Davey barked, raising his rifle. But in the tangle of limbs, he couldn’t get a clear shot.

The night wind whipped through the steel beams, rattling the bridge like bones shaking against one another. The train tracks were silent. No engines, no movement. Just the five of them on that narrow walkway, the river stretching out below.

A fight that had been a long time coming.

Davey’s eyes darted between Sullivan and Brody, his finger hovering near the trigger of his rifle. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Dom.

His younger brother had jumped onto the train tracks and was edging around the fight, his lean frame hugging the inner edge of the walkway. Dom’s bright blue eyes were narrowed in concentration, his dark hair whipping around his face in the gusting wind.

Davey’s heart rate spiked. “Dom, stop!”

If Dom heard—which he probably had—he ignored the command. He kept moving until he popped up onto the walkway behind Brody and Sullivan.

“Fuck,” he said, voice perfectly clear in Davey’s earpiece despite the wind. “Still no shot.”

Yeah, he’d definitely heard and ignored that command. “Hold your position.” He didn’t want to have to worry about Dom falling, too.

Sullivan’s fist connected with Brody’s jaw, the impact echoing across the bridge. Brody stumbled, his heel catching on the edge of the grating. For a heart-stopping moment, he teetered on the brink, but Sully grabbed a fistful of his jacket, holding him tipped over the low railing.

Davey’s finger tightened on the trigger, ready to take the shot if Brody made a move. But Sullivan was still too close, his body partially shielding Brody from a clean line of fire.

“Don’t have a shot,” Cade said, deadly calm.

“Same,” Dom said.

“Sully, get clear!” Davey commanded, trying to find an opening.

But Sullivan was beyond hearing. His face was a mask of rage as he slammed Brody against the railing. The metal groaned under the impact.

“Why?” Sullivan growled. “Why’d you do it?”

Brody’s teeth flashed in a bloody smile. “You know why.”

His voice wasn’t cocky. Wasn’t mocking. Just calm. Matter-of-fact.

Sullivan’s breath came in sharp and uneven pants. His grip on Brody’s jacket was ironclad, his whole body trembling with the force of holding himself back.

The railing creaked beneath Brody’s weight.

The wind whipped through the steel beams, rattling the bridge.

Even with blood smeared across his mouth, his body half-dangling over the drop, Brody looked at Sullivan like he’d already won.

Like he wanted this.

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