Page 30 of Rebel
I pause at the door. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. For not throwing me out. For listening. For..." He stops. "For being stronger than I am."
"Someone has to be." I don't look back. "Good night, Carter."
"Good night."
I close the door behind me and lean against the hallway wall. My hands are shaking. My chest feels hollowed out.
He got Alex killed. And I just kissed him. If loving Carter means betraying my brother, I don’t know which one I’m choosing.
Down the hall, I hear Divine's voice calling my name. Something about security protocols for tomorrow. Real life is demanding attention.
For a moment, I just stand there in the dark hallway, pressing Alex's dog tag against my chest, and wonder if my brother would understand the choice I'm making.
Or if he'd be disappointed that I'm falling for the man who got him killed.
Tell Vic it was worth it.
"I hope you meant that, Alex," I whisper. "Because I'm trusting him. And if you're wrong about him, if he's not worth what you paid..."
I don't finish the thought because I can’t survive being wrong twice.
9
REBEL
Idon’t sleep.
I sit with my back against the office door, the metal warmth of Alex’s dog tag pressed to my chest, while the faint taste of Carter’s kiss still lingers on my lips. The office smells like paper, dust, and the faint burn of overheated wiring from the security panel above me.
I count the seconds between security grid rotations the way I used to count Alex’s breaths when we were kids hiding from storms. Back then, I counted to survive the dark. Now, I count to stay ahead of it. Every hum in the wall feels like a warning. Every shift in the air sounds like a breach.
Carter and I have been holed up in the war room for hours, poring over spreadsheets and encrypted codes. The room is lit by blue screens and the low pulse of the Harlots’ security grid. The smell of coffee and sweatlingers. My laptop hums beside his, the sound of overlapping searches filling the silence between us.
His shoulder brushes mine as he shifts in his chair. The contact is accidental, but neither of us pulls away. His warmth seeps through the cotton. My heartbeat responds before I can tell it to stop.
“Textile plant,” Carter says, pointing to the IP map glowing on his screen. “Same one from the Vultures’ hit on your brother’s shipment. They reactivated it.”
I drag the cursor across the highlighted coordinates. “That place burned down three years ago.”
“Not anymore. The system’s pinging an active relay inside. That’s a front, Rebel. Could be money movement, could be storage.”
“Could be bait.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “Everything’s bait if you’re not careful.”
The cursor blinks between us, the screen casting his face in shades of cold light. My chest tightens. The man bleeds control. Every movement is measured, every breath calculated, but I can tell he’s just as wired as I am, with the slight tick of his jaw. His hands also betray his tension, as his fingers flatten against the table when he thinks I am not looking.
Finally, I exhale. “If the Vultures are running this through a Syndicate shell company, then the Royal Bastards are sitting on a time bomb without even knowing it.”
Carter’s expression darkens. “That’s not just theSyndicate. It’s an expansion. They’re building something bigger, smarter. This is how they rebuild under the radar.”
He’s right. Every piece we’ve followed, the ledger, the ghost accounts, the reactivated contracts, wasn’t just theft. It was recruitment. They’re resurrecting dead operations through legitimate fronts. Shelter donations. Freight companies. Rehab programs. Even Alex’s old cover firm.
My pulse skitters. “We have to tell Allura.”
Carter leans back, arms crossed. “You think she’ll thank you for bringing this to her door?”
