Page 25 of Shadow's Edge

“Well, isn’tthisinteresting,” he murmured, his voice deceptively calm as he strolled toward me.

I had tofightthe instinct to move away from him, but Iforcedmyself to stay still. We had to present aunited front forher. Preacher grabbed a chair, flipped it around, and straddled it, resting his forearms against the back.

She latched onto him like a lifeline.

“She’slying,” she whined, her voice turning desperate. “She’s lying, Preacher. I went to see Dragon because I needed abreak?—”

The door opened again, and in walked Dragon himself. I didn’t remember him much from my childhood, but he was the kind of man youdidn’tfuck with. And the look he was giving Store? Well, that look would makemostmen shit themselves.

I’m fairly certain it had the same effect on her because her entire body went stiff.

Behind me, Hunter walked in, followed by Coleman and Mace. I didn’t turn, but I couldfeelthe shift in the room as even more bodies filtered in.

Preacher leaned back slightly, looking at her with lazy disinterest. “You were saying?”

Store’s mouth opened and closed, and for the first time, I watchedrealfear settle in her expression.

Jagger let out a low, disgusted noise. “JesusChrist, Preacher.” His voice was rough, tinged with somethingoff, something I couldn’t quite place. “Youfuckedthis?”

The room went eerily silent. I refused to take my eyes offher, but I couldfeelthe weight of Jagger’s words, and I had the sickest feeling thatthiswas just the beginning.

The guys all let out low chuckles at Jagger’s jab, but something about it hit a nerve deep inside me. Yeah, this was what had led to my mom putting a bullet through her skull.

And no, Store wasn’t fucking worth what I really wanted to do to her. No one was, including Preacher.

I forced myself to push past it, to bury it under the disgust and hatred I had carefully cultivated for my sperm donor. With a slow inhale, I squared my shoulders, letting my expression go completely blank. Every ounce of training, every lesson incontrol, every brutal experience that had honed me into the weapon I was today—I drew on it all, keeping myself composed and prepared.

Because if there was one thing I knew, it was that people struck when you least expected it. And in a room full ofpredators, only fools let their guard down.

Jagger’s comment hadn’t just hit me—it had struck a chord withher, too.

Store snapped.

Her face contorted, twisting in a way that looked inhuman, warped and furious. Maybe it was the layers of cheap makeup cracking, or maybe it was just the reality of the situation finally settling in.

“Fuck you, Jagger.Fuckallof you,” she spat, her voice sharp, manic. “You don’t know who you’re up against. You don’t know whathecan do.” A smug sneer curled on her lips. “He’ll come for me, andyou’llall befucked.”

Silence. Not a single reaction came from the room to her threat. Not a blink, not a muscle twitch.

Notoneperson in the room gave a singlefuckabout what she was claiming, because we all knew the truth—she wasdelusional. And even worse, sheknew it, too. I had studied behavioral psychology as part of my training—language patterns, subconscious tells, the way emotions twisted words and betrayed intent. Right now, her speech, the short, basic sentences, and repeated use of the wordfuck, told me exactly what I needed to know.

She wasn’tconfident, she wasgrasping. Storehopedhe would come, shewantedtobelievehe would. But deep down, she knew he wouldn’t.

Preacher shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable, completely unimpressed by her little tantrum. Then, with the same calm as someone ordering a drink at a bar, he lifted his cell and turned the screen toward her.

“This guy?” A photo ofJose Demingofilled the screen.

Store’s expression flickered—recognition, relief, triumph. She nodded, chin lifted slightly like she thought she had us all exactly where she wanted us.

Preacher just looked past her. “Hunter,” he asked lazily, “do you think he’s on his way?”

Hunter barely stifled a laugh, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

Preacher turned toward Jagger and justlookedat him. Jagger smirked, not even needing the full question before answering, “She’s off her fucking meds if she actually believes that.”

The words landed like gunfire, and Store’s confidence wavered. Shefeltit now, the shift in the air, the weight of what we knew, and her smile faltered.

I met Jagger’s gaze for a brief moment before turning my attention back to the train wreck in front of me—JoseDemingo. A man with alegacyof deception. He had started as a government agent, a rising star, known for intercepting major trafficking operations, shutting down high-level cartels. Theperfectsoldier, thegoldeninvestigator. All that was until the truth surfaced.

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