Page 17 of King's Reckoning
His dark eyes met hers, intense in the dim light. "Dangerous," he said softly. "In all the best ways."
Heat bloomed in her chest, but before she could respond, Barbara called them over. She had thewooden box open on a cleared table, its contents carefully arranged. The professor's hands moved with reverence and precision over documents that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades.
"It's incredible," she breathed. "These documents…they're centuries old but perfectly preserved. The materials, the inks used...and look at these markings. They predate any known writing system in this region."
“Pass me that reference file, would you?” Barbara asked, glancing at Ace who was organizing supporting documents nearby. He nodded, selecting the correct folder without needing further instruction. Their silent communication spoke of a deep connection forged through both their personal relationship and professional collaboration. Barbara's archaeological expertise let her recognize patterns in the ancient markings that others might have missed, while Ace's practical approach helped ground their findings in tangible solutions.
The papers were covered in the same mix of symbols they'd seen on the outer box. Maps, diagrams, strings of code that made Rowan's head hurt to look at. But under it all was something else. Something that made her skin prickle with recognition.
"Mom's handwriting," she said, pointing to tiny notes in the margins. The familiar script was faded but clear, recording observations and connections. "She found this before, studied it. The journal entries match up with..."
She trailed off as King held up a photograph. It showed a much younger Elena and King standing in front of the clubhouse, arms around each other. They looked happy, in love—before secrets and fear tore them apart. But it was what was in the background that caught Rowan's attention.
"The warehouse," she said, recognizing the building the Devils had warned them away from. "There's something about it in these papers. Coordinates, elevation markers. Mom mapped it all out."
"That's where the next piece is," King said. "Has to be. Elena was trying to tell us..." He traced their younger faces in the photo, lost in memories.
A phone buzzed—the burner they'd taken from one of Blackwood's men. Barbara checked it, her expression grim.
"They're mobilizing," she reported. "Full tactical teams, heavy equipment. They're done playing games. Whatever's in that warehouse, they're going after it with everything they have."
"So are we," King said. He looked at Rowan—really looked at her. Not just Elena's daughter now, but her own person. Someone worthy of trust. "Your mother spent twenty-five years preparing for this. Making sure we'd be ready when the time came. Now it's here."
Rowan studied the photo again—her parents in happier days, before secrets and fear tore themapart. She wouldn't let that happen again. This time, they'd face whatever came together.
"Then let's finish what she started," she said firmly.
Reed stepped up beside her, close enough that she could feel his heat. "Whatever you need." The words were simple, but his tone held layers of meaning.
She met his eyes, saw the same determination she felt. Whatever came next, they would face it together. All of them.
King's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. Father and daughter, finally united. Elena would have been proud.
"Get some rest," he told the assembled brothers. "Tomorrow we find out what's really buried under that warehouse. And God help anyone who tries to stop us."
Rowan watched the others disperse to their assigned positions. So much had changed in just a few days. She'd come looking for answers about her past, but she'd found something more—a future worth fighting for.
Now she just had to survive long enough to claim it.
Dawn painted the warehouse district in shades of rust and shadow as Rowan studied the building through high-powered binoculars. The structure looked abandoned at first glance, its brick walls weathered by decades of neglect and painted with fading graffiti. But the fresh tire tracks in the dirt and the recently disturbed ground told a different story. So did the subtle gleam of security cameras hidden in the eaves.
"They've been busy," Reed said beside her. They were positioned on a nearby rooftop, watching Blackwood's men come and go in unmarked vehicles. The morning air was cool, but Rowan felt heat radiating from where their shoulders touched in their hiding spot. "Ground-penetrating radar, core samples, seismic testing. Whatever's down there, they're getting close to finding it."
He passed her a thermos of coffee—strong and black, just like she'd made that first morning at the clubhouse. The gesture was casual but thoughtful, as if he'd been paying attention to her habits all along.
"Maybe too close." Rowan lowered the binoculars, trying to ignore how aware she was of Reed's proximity. She could smell leather and gun oil mixed with something uniquely him. "We need to move soon. Before they figure out what Mom and Flash were protecting."
"Tonight," King's voice crackled through their earpieces. He was watching from another position with Darkness, their experience with surveillance operations evident in how they'd set up overlapping fields of view. "Barbara's analyzed those documents from Flash's grave. Whatever's buried under there, it connects to what we found. It's all part of the same story."
Rowan pulled out Elena's journal, its pages soft with age and use. The complex diagrams her mother had drawn showed the warehouse from multiple angles. Not just its location, but detailed notes about its construction, its history. Some of the annotations were in a code Rowan was still working to decipher.
"Mom knew," she said softly, tracing the careful lines. "All those years ago, she figured out what they were hiding. That's why she left—to protect the secret until we were ready." Her fingers lingered on a particular symbol that appeared repeatedly. "But ready for what?"
"That's the million-dollar question," Reed said. His voice was pitched low, meant just for her despite their radio connection to the others. "Whatscared her enough to walk away from everything? From King?"
Before Rowan could respond, movement caught her eye. A group of Devils was approaching the warehouse. Including their leader from the clubhouse attack. Their swagger was unmistakable, even from this distance.
"Looks like we're not the only ones interested," Reed muttered, already documenting faces with a long-lens camera. "Question is, are they working with Blackwood or against him?"
