Page 47 of The Reaper
Ryker had given me a credit card before I left, plain steel, heavy in my palm. No black. No gold. No platinum. Just hard-worn metal, cool to the touch, like it had been forged for battle.
“No limit,” he’d said, his eyes steady. “Whatever you need.”
The weight of it felt like a promise, a tool to end threats like Kato, to never hear “denied” again when lives were on the line. Jensen’s laugh, Baker’s blood—they haunted me, my failurescarved in my bones. A blank check could’ve saved them. Drones. Ammo. Backup.
Dominion Hall had that pull, and I wanted it. But I’d again declined staying there.
“Not yet,” I’d told him. “Need to do my own due diligence.”
The Charleston Danes knew too much about me—Nightshade, my ops, my losses. I needed to even the score, dig on my own terms.
Ryker had nodded, like he’d expected it, and let me go.
Now, walking back to The Palmetto Rose, the city bustling around me, I felt the weight of it all. The streets were humming. The harbor murmured in the distance, a low, restless pulse that matched my own. My footsteps echoed, steady but heavy, as my thoughts raced, untamed.
Brothers.
A father who’d played both sides.
Billions stolen, hidden, built into this empire.
I wasn’t just reeling; I felt alive, like the world had cracked open, revealing a path I hadn’t known existed.
Montana had been survival. This? This was power. Real power.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the spiral.
Meghan.
Fuck, Meghan. I couldn’t tell her about Ryker, the revelation, the family stew. She’d ask, though. Her eyes had lit when she’d mentioned the Danes, like she knew the myth and wanted to see more. I’d have to come up with something—vague, but not a lie. I didn’t lie, but I deflected like a pro.
I smiled, thumbs tapping fast.Tomorrow night. Bring an appetite.
Maybe we could skip dinner, get straight to the fucking. Last night had been fire—her body under mine, on top, demandingmore. I’d never met a woman like her. Bold, unashamed, matching my hunger thrust for thrust.
She entranced me, her magnetism pulling me in, but I understood the limits. She was her work, like I was mine. Ambition burned in her, that Michelin star chased with every plate, every garnish, every late-night prep.
Our loyalties would clash eventually—hers to Promenade, mine to this new family tangle. Something would have to give.
But that was later. For now, I had to think about the near future, about the combined Dane families, the repercussions, the possibilities.
Billions.
Brothers.
A fortress that felt like home and a trap all at once.
Yes, maybe Charleston wasn’t such a bad place after all.
The Palmetto Rose’s lobby was silent when I reached it, the clerk nodding faintly as I crossed the polished floor. I took the stairs two at a time, keycard sliding, door shutting with a thud that echoed in the quiet.
My thoughts kept circling back to Ryker’s tour, the weight of his words, the steel card in my wallet.
I powered up my laptop again, checking for updates from my hackers. Ryker had okay’d it. Said it was good practice, might keep another brother, Elias, on his toes.
GhostRider had sent a prelim file—encrypted, sparse, but enough to confirm Dominion Hall was more than a mansion. Private security firm, contracts spanning the Middle East, Europe, Africa. Financials layered in shell companies, billions hidden in plain sight.
Seven brothers, all ex-military, each with a role—Ryker the face, Marcus the muscle, Elias the tech, Noah, Charlie, Atlas, Silas, names I didn’t know yet, but would.
