Page 16 of Make Them Bleed
I tip the driver, climb the stairwell, unlock my apartment door, and pause in the threshold. The air smells faintly of Arby’s vanilla-amber diffuser, the one I can’t bring myself to shut off while I’m home. My muscles sag with exhaustion.
I text Hoover a single line:
Thank you for not letting me do this alone.
Three beats pass before the reply pings back:
HOOVER: You’re not alone. Not while I’m breathing.
I clutch the phone to my chest, exhale, and finally step inside.
Tomorrow, the hunt truly begins. Tonight, I tuck the journal under my pillow, whisper a promise to the silent ceiling, and let memories of my sister’s laugh propel me toward sleep—restless, righteous, and brimming with new, reckless hope.
8
Arrow
I gun my ancient Civic up the cracked two-lane that leads to Maddox Security and pretend the potholes are stress balls—each one a satisfying thump under the tires that releases some of the panic coiled in my chest since last night’s alley rendezvous. Sunrise is still warming the horizon, brushing the pine trees with watercolor pinks, yet my pulse is already slamming triple time.
I glance at the passenger seat. A flash-drive the size of a Chiclet rattles inside an evidence bag, stampedPOSSIBLE LEAD—DO NOT LOSEin Gage’s Sharpie scrawl. The drive holds a copy of the crypto-wallet ledger and burner-email domain I scraped at four-thirty a.m. It’s all I have to give Dean this morning, and it feels pathetically small—a pebble tossed at a freight train. But it’s something. Something means momentum, and momentum keeps Juno alive.
The Maddox compound squats at the top of a ridge like a paranoid castle: six-foot steel fencing, cameras that track hawks in flight, solar panels glinting like polished shields. Most folkssee an ultra-secure tech campus; I see a hard-won sanctuary run by the one guy I trust not to rat me out to the Feds.
The guard at the gate kiosk barely glances at my temp badge before waving me through. Inside, fluorescent lights hum, HVAC whooshes, and the faint scent of Dean’s preferred lemon-verbena floor cleaner lingers like we’re inside a very tidy storm cloud. I cut across the bullpen, and bee-line to the Aquarium.
Dean Maddox is already there, pacing, fingers flying over a phone. Black Henley, black jeans, combat boots. He looks up the second I crack the door, gray eyes assessing, and kills the call.
“Finn,” he rumbles, voice like gravel shaken in a steel drum. “Got your message. Show me what you’ve got.”
I hand him the drive. “Ledger from a dark-web exchange. Five equal payouts—same night Arby died. Wallet’s ghost-registered, but one address traces back to a local ISP.”
Dean snaps the evidence bag open, plugs the drive into a tablet, and scrolls. His brows lower, forming that trench that only appears when something actually worries him. “You pull this legally?”
I manage a bland smile. “Define legally.”
He snorts, but it’s fifty-percent admiration. “Fine. I’ll route it through some friends at CYBERTRAC. No promises.”
I blow out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Appreciate it.”
Dean folds muscular arms, gaze drilling into me. “Listen, Arrow—you sure you want to keep poking this? You look like you slept in a car wash. Authorities?—”
“—have nothing,” I finish, a little sharper than intended. The echo of Arby’s final scream slices across my memory. “I’m not playing vigilante. I’m just…parsing data the cops missed.”
Dean’s jaw ticks. “Just parsing really ugly data. Which can get you shot if the wrong people think you’re in the way.”
“That’s why I came to you,” I confess. “If chatter pops up—contracts, chatter rooms, whatever—I need ears.”
He sighs. “I’ll text my contacts. Pull favors. But you stay two steps back from the fire, understood?”
“When has staying back ever worked?” The frustration slips out before I can reel it in. “Arby’s dead. Juno’s barely holding on. Waiting isn’t an option.”
Dean’s steady gaze softens—just a hair. “You love this girl.”
I look down at the table’s smooth glass surface; my reflection looks like a ghost behind the fluorescents. “Since we were ten.”
“Then protect her smart, not loud.” He pockets the drive. “I’ll let you know when something shakes loose.”
“That’s all I need.” I straighten, shouldering my backpack. “Thanks, Dean.”
