Page 19 of Nocturne
Vincent lunges past Damon, straight for me. I hearthe movement and spin around, but Zion’s already up, grabbing him mid-swing. Damon doesn’t move, just watches like it’s all a show. Emma’s by his side, tense, ready to strike, then bolts straight for Vincent.
Grace pulls a knife from her side and points it straight at Emma. “You better stay right there, bitch. I’d hate to mess up that pretty little face of yours,” she grins.
Carter’s sister takes a step back but keeps her eyes locked on Grace, who won’t stop smiling like it’s the most fun she’s had all week.
Out of nowhere, Vincent lunges and tackles Damon around the waist, both of them crash to the floor, rolling and throwing punches like wild animals.
I’m too slow to break them apart.
Vincent’s older, probably stronger, but he’s got nothing on Damon’s speed. My boy ducks the worst of the blows and lands a clean shot to Vincent’s ribs. I lock an arm around Vincent’s throat, dragging him back in a chokehold while he thrashes, trying to break free, but he can’t.
In the middle of all that chaos, I can’t help but wonder what the hell Carter and O’Connor are thinking. Not a single word from either of them. That silence? Way louder than yelling.
Zion stands up, still breathing heavy, but there’s a damn smile on his face. That bastard lives for shit like this.
His bottom lip’s busted, blood dripping, but he doesn’t seem to give a fuck. Classic Zion.
I release Vincent from the chokehold and shove him back toward Damon and Emma’s side. He straightenshis jacket, spits blood and saliva on the floor like he’s still got something to prove.
“Y’all need to learn some damn manners,” Carter’s voice cuts through the room, rough, steady, laced with fear and control. The voice of a man juggling too much and watching it all spiral.
“Vincent,” he turns with disappointment, “Is this how you welcome our new allies?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s already over it.
“And you, Damon... know when to shut the fuck up.”
The tension in the room gets even worse, and everyone straightens up, especially Hunter, who shrinks back even more. O’Connor swallows hard and scans the room.
“I believe it’s gonna be tough, but it’s all up to you,” he says, looking right at me before turning his gaze back to the table where I placed the flash drive. “This thing might hold the answers and tell us what our next moves should be. Anyone here able to figure out what the fuck is on it?” He looks around the room.
Emma steps forward. “I can try to decrypt it. It might take some time, but I also have a few contacts.”
“Good,” O’Connor nods. “You and Grace will work on it. I want answers by midnight.”
I’m pretty sure Grace rolled her eyes but went along with O’Connor’s order. She’s not the friendliest in the gang, but she’s right to not trust easily.
“You’re dismissed,” Carter spits, clearly worn out.
?????
The red glow from the Pepper's Pizza sign drips onto the wet sidewalk like the sky itself had bled. The rain stopped not long ago, but the smell still lingers in the air. Melted cheese, baked dough, a cheap nostalgia that hits me right in the gut. I push open the glass door, and the bell up top lets out that sharp, annoying ding. Grace walks in right behind me, leather jacket slung over her shoulder, lace crop top hugging her tight, low-rise jeans showing the tattoo on her hip every time she moves. Her messy bun’s coming undone, bangs shading half her face, but somehow she looks like she just stepped out of a photoshoot. Zion’s last to show up, already loud as hell as he throws his beanie back and pulls out a chair with the grace of a runaway truck.
“If this pizza tastes like that Italy mission, I’m demanding an emotional refund,” he says, cracking a grin.
Grace laughs loud, tossing her bag on the chair next to him. “Nah, Zion. You loved Italy. Even teared up watching the sunset in Napoli.”
“I cried ’cause I ate some shitty lasagna and thought I was gonna die,” he snaps back, flashing that grill-filled smile. Zion’s rocking a ripped denim jacket, plaid shirt underneath, and that look in his eyes that screams, ‘Been through too much to take shit seriously.’ He throws himself into the chair, chill like the world outside isn’t about to blow the fuck up.
We order the usual—pepperoni with stuffed crust—and two beers each. The waiter doesn’t even writeit down, knows us too well.
While we wait, Grace starts talking about Rome.
“The mission was to break into some government building and snatch documents from a vault on the top floor. But before that, we had a meeting with whoever ordered the job.
The money flowing into Iron Requiem was heavy… but for me and Zion, every second was worth it.”
“Man, imagine Hunter in Italy,” Zion laughs. “That dude’s so closed off, he’d wanna shoot everyone before breakfast. But somehow, we held it together.”
The pizza shows up, the smell floods the air. Grace takes the first bite and lets out a dramatic moan. “Fuck, I needed this.”
