Page 46 of Reclaimed

I grind to a halt in front of my apartment door, adjusting myself as I pivot to unlock it. “There a point to this?”

“Yeah, the point is Austin Miller was taken out by a car bomb,” Slade says, leaning a shoulder against the wall and stabbing his fingers through his hair. “They found his car and most of him in a field halfway to Bellhaven.”

“You don’t say,” I deadpan, pushing into my apartment.

Slade follows me in, and I head towards the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Then I turn, raising it to Slade. “Want some?”

“No, shithead,” he scoffs, scowling back at me. “Miller’s dad’s out for blood.”

This gets my attention. I flick my gaze up, pausing briefly before cracking the seal on the bottle and starting to pour. “From who?”

“Whoever did it.” Slade pushes up his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I heard him talking to my dad–”

“Do you have your dad’s house tapped?” I ask, turning to face him.

“No.” He rolls his eyes. “Just his office.”

I shrug, taking a drink.

“Well, he thinks a repo man did it,” Slade continues, still glowering at me. “He wants a meeting with us all.”

“When?”

“Now.”

I throw back my drink before begrudgingly motioning towards the door. “Lead the way.”

My boots scuff against the concrete as I follow Slade through the corridors of the compound and into one of the command rooms. A few other mercenaries are already seated around the conference table in the center– some in sweats, straight out of bed, and others in full tactical gear. I stride over to the nearest empty chair and sink down into it, my fingers drumming restlessly over my phone in my pocket.

Chief Noah Pierce walks in, some greying fuck in a tailored suit staggering beside him with a cane. From a single glance, I can tell he’s related to Austin Miller. Those genes are putting in far more work than that useless twat ever did.

I don’t want to be here. No one is ever going to prove I’m responsible for Austin Miller’s demise, and I'd much rather be home right now with a hand wrapped around my dick while I watch my favorite feed. But I respect Noah, so I’ll sit through this bullshit meeting. And not because he’s my Chief, not because he raised me when he didn’t have to, but because he’s a good man in a world where human decency is a fucking liability. Nothing comes free, and doing the right thing is rarely rewarded.

He could’ve ignored my screams for help all those years ago. Leaving a half-dead kid behind with his junkie mother’s body wouldn’t have made the world any worse than it already was, but Noah didn’t see things that way. He opened the door, let me out. He did what he could to raise me alongside Slade.

We inherited a world built by selfish bastards, and maybe it’s too fucked up now to fix. But that doesn’t mean we can't unfuck things for a few.

“What's going on?” Ross grumbles as he walks in. He looks like shit, one eye bruised and halfway swollen shut. “It’s three a.m. - someone better be dead,” he adds, dropping to the chair beside Slade.

Miller’s dad turns around quickly, leveling him with a glare. “My son is.”

Ross pales, scrubbing a busted hand over his tight-cropped hair as he mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Alright,” Noah sighs, arms folding over his chest as his eyes sweep over the room. “Commander Miller has put an open assignment on retainer. Turn in the proof of who murdered his son, and you’ll get to handle the execution.”

“I won’t mince words,” Miller cuts in, swinging his cane in front of Noah as he steps forward and lifts his chin. “The hit on my son was meticulous. Professional. Whoever did it had training.” His eyes narrow. “This kind of training. If it was someone in here, I have the power to find out and bury them.” He bangs his cane against the ground, sweeping his gaze around the table.

Nobody shifts their weight, no one’s expression changes. We’re all too well trained for that. Miller scowls, huffing out a breath before abruptly turning and hobbling out the door.

I scoff internally at his threat– one that could only come to fruition because of money, not skill.

“Dismissed,” Noah shouts.

I feel Slade’s gaze flick my way as I shove up from my seat and stalk towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him get up and start to follow, so I pick up my pace, aiming to lose him. As soon as I make it back to my apartment, I slip inside, immediately pulling up Jersey’s feed.

The fuck?

I blink at the screen, brows furrowing.