Page 65 of Victorious: Part 2
“Fuck,” Luke mutters under his breath.
“What?” Montana asks, confusion clear in his tone.
Logan looks at his brother. They’re visibly having another one of those silent conversations.
“Get inside,” Luke says finally, lowering his weapon. “All of you. But if this is a setup, Ipromiseyou won’t live to regret it,and your deathswillbe slow and very,verypainful.”
We all glance at Alpha for direction, and he lowers his gun, making the first move inside the apartment. The rest of us follow suit, Montana picking up his gun on the way inside.
Their apartment is sparse but organized. Military neat. Maps and documents are spread across a small dining table. They’ve obviously been doing their own investigating. Both brothers keep their weapons within easy reach.
Because clearly no one trusts anyone right now.
“You’re still tracking the corruption,” I observe, noting the extensive documentation scattered across every surface.
Logan nods grimly. “We couldn’t let it go. Too many good people are getting hurt.”
Montana steps forward, desperation crossing his features. “As I said, my mother’s been in contact with Rhonda. She’s looking out for her, keeping her safe. If you know something about what’s happening in there…”
Both brothers exchange a look, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
“Montana,” Luke says carefully. “I need you to sit down.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Just… sit the fuck down.”
Montana reluctantly takes a seat, his hands clenched into fists. “Do you know why I haven’t heard from my mom?”
Logan moves to their filing system and pulls out a thick folder. “Rhondaisn’tprotecting your mother.” Logan lets out a hesitant huff. “I hate to tell you this, but she’s the one coordinatingeverythinginside that damn prison.”
“What do you meancoordinating everything?”Montana snaps, standing from the sofa like an enraged bull.
Luke opens the folder, revealing photographs, financial records, and communication logs. “Guard Rhonda Williams. Fifteen-year corrections veteran. Model employee until abouteight months ago, when she became the Cartel’s main inside coordinator.”
My eyes meet Alpha’s, and we both slump our shoulders in defeat.
How the fuck did wenotsee this?
Montana stares at the documents, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s bullshit. Rhonda’s been helping my mom. She warned her about the new inmates, told her to keep her head down—”
“To keep her isolated,” Logan interrupts. “To make sure she didn’t interfere with their operations.”
“You’re fucking lying!” Montana growls, beginning to pace. “Rhonda’s one of the good ones. She’s been looking out for my mom since day one.” His anger becomes more evident as he storms through the apartment.
Luke spreads out bank records across the table. “Regular deposits of five thousand dollars every month for the last eight months. All cash. All untraceable.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Montana says, throwing his hands through the air, though his voice is wavering.
Logan adds communication logs to the spread of evidence. “Phone calls to known Cartel operatives. Text messages coordinating inmate transfers. Visitor logs that show her facilitating unauthorized meetings.”
“And this,” Luke says quietly, pulling out a photograph. “Surveillance photo of Rhonda meeting with Cartel leadership two weeks ago.”
Montana stares at the photograph, and I watch all the color drain from his face. I peer over to see the image. Rhonda is clearly visible, shaking hands with a man I recognize from our Cartel files—it’s one of Javier’s lieutenants.
“No,” Montana whispers, his anger fading to devastation. “She… she told my mom she’d keep her safe.”
“She was keeping your mothercontained,” Logan explainsgently. “Making sure she didn’t see too much, didn’t asktoomany questions. Your mother probably thought Rhonda was protecting her, but really, Rhonda was protecting the operation.”
