Page 37 of The Reaper
I typed my name in, added the number, and handed the phone back.
“How long are you in town?” I asked, the question quieter than I meant it to be.
He looked at me for a long moment. Then shrugged, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Wasn’t planning to stay long.”
I nodded, trying not to let the disappointment register.
“But now?” He stepped closer, gaze raking slowly down my face. “I’m starting to think Charleston might be worth sticking around for.”
My breath caught.
“That because of the venison?” I asked, voice unsteady.
He smirked. “That’s part of it.”
We stood there in the silence for a moment—my feet bare on the tile, his shirt still half-unbuttoned.
Then he reached for the door, fingers brushing the frame.
“Wait,” I said suddenly. “Did you say Dane?”
He turned back to face me, brows lifting. “Yeah. Caleb Dane. Why?”
My heart gave a funny little jolt. “Are you one oftheDanes?”
He blinked, clearly not following.
I stared at him. “As in Dominion Hall? Big private estate—iron gates, armed security, the whole bit?”
Something flickered behind his eyes—faint recognition, then caution. “You’ve heard of it?”
“Heard of it?” I stepped closer, arms folding instinctively. “People around here treat Dominion Hall like a myth. Seven brothers, all former military. Billionaires, or trillionaires depending on who you talk to. The stories are wild—no one really knows what goes on in there, but everyone agrees on one thing: you don’t cross a Dane. I hear they even keep a venomous snake as a pet.”
He held my gaze. “Seven?”
“That’s what they say.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Ryker never mentioned that.”
My brows lifted. “Ryker?”
He nodded once, slow. “Met him. He brought me in for something. Never gave a last name. Never mentioned brothers.”
“You’ve been inside Dominion Hall?” I asked, voice sharper now. “No one gets in unless they’re vetted.”
“I figured that out pretty fast,” he muttered, then ran a hand through his hair. “The place was like walking into a fortress. Not just guarded—calculated.”
A strange tension wove through his words—respect, unease, maybe even a little regret. Something unspoken lingered.
“So, Ryker recruited you for what?” I asked.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Didn’t say. Just hinted. He knew things no one should’ve known—classified shit. Stuff I never told anyone.”
My stomach flipped. “That sounds … intense.”
“It was,” he said. “Dominion Hall doesn’t feel like a house. It feels like a test.”
Silence fell between us, thick with implication.
