Page 37 of Possessed By Roman

“Yes.”

His thumb brushes beneath my eye before he steps away to join River and Royal.

I stand there shaking, watching the men who have become Roman's family prepare to find mine.

Somewhere out there, my father is still alive.

And now we finally have a way to reach him.

Chapter Eight

Roman

Royal gets into the phone faster than I expect.

One of the recent messages gives us what we need: an address on the outskirts of Atlanta connected to one of Duggan’s associates. Royal cross-checks it against the information from Dan’s drive, and when the same address appears buried in one of the files, we know we have something.

River and I leave immediately.

The building is an old warehouse tucked behind a row of industrial properties, far enough from the main road that no one would pay attention to what happens inside. We park out of sight and approach on foot.

Years of training take over before I consciously think about it. Entrances. Windows. Vehicles. Possible exits.

River moves beside me without speaking. We circle the building until we find a side entrance, then slip inside.

The interior smells like dust, oil, and damp concrete. Voices carry from somewhere ahead.

“Once the drive is destroyed, we move him.”

Duggan.

Every muscle in my body locks.

Another man answers, but I can't make out the words.

River looks at me. I signal toward the voices, and we move.

We find them in a room near the back of the warehouse. Dan is tied to a chair, his face bruised and swollen. One eye is nearly closed. Dried blood marks his shirt, and even from across the room I can see how exhausted he is.

Duggan stands a few feet away with another man.

Rage hits me hard enough to blur my vision, but I force it down. Control first.

Duggan turns at the sound of our approach.

Everything happens at once. His hand goes for the gun at his waist. I close the distance before he can raise it, slamming into him hard enough to send both of us into a metal table. The gun hits the concrete and skids away.

Behind me, River collides with the other man.

Duggan swings. I block the first hit, take the second against my shoulder, then drive my fist into his ribs. He stumbles but doesn’t go down.

“You should’ve stayed out of this,” he spits.

“You took the wrong man’s family.”

I hit him again. He comes at me harder, but anger makes him sloppy. Training doesn’t leave much room for sloppy. I catch his arm, turn with the momentum, and drive him to the concrete.

Across the room, I hear another crash as River takes down the second man.