Reagan’s POV
"They’ll kill them first."
The words settled over the street, but nobody moved. I kept my eyes on the rooftops, watching the rifles pointed in our direction. Not one shot had been fired. No shouting, no sudden movement, nothing. Just a dozen or more armed men waiting for something.
They had the advantage. Higher ground, concealed positions, more men than I cared to count. If they wanted us dead, they had already been given the perfect opportunity.
So why were they waiting?
The man beside me shifted his weight. "Boss, do we still open fire?"
I raised one hand.
He stopped.
No.
His mouth tightened. He lowered his weapon with an irritated click of his tongue. "Tch."
The rest of my men followed, lowering their weapons but keeping their hands close. Nobody relaxed. The silence was too deliberate for that.
I kept watching the rooftops. Whoever was behind this had gone to considerable trouble to get us here, and now that we were standing in the middle of their trap, they weren’t taking the final step.
That told me enough.
A door opened.
A man stepped outside and walked toward us like he had nothing to fear. He stopped a few feet away, looking directly at me.
"Reagan?"
"Who’s asking?"
His eyes moved over my men before returning to me.
"Your father should’ve sent someone else."
I said nothing.
"Then again, perhaps he knew you’d be foolish enough to come running the moment someone waved a little bait in front of you."
I slipped a finger into my ear and scratched lazily, twisting it once before pulling it out.
The man’s mouth tightened.
I looked at him.
He continued. "You’re different from what we expected. Our intel branded you as someone to be scared of. Someone people think twice before approaching. But looking at you now..." He gave me a faint smile. "I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve been overestimating you."
Intel.
I almost smiled.
So they’d been studying me. How famous i much be.
He watched me, waiting for a reaction.
"You checked on him recently?"
The change in his face was small, but I caught it.
His eyes flickered and his jaw tightened.
I scoffed.
Easy.
He recovered quickly. "You think this is a game?"
I shrugged.
His voice rose. "You have someone inside your organization. Someone who tells us what we need to know. Your movements, your security, your businesses. You don’t even know how much we’ve already seen."
I looked at him for a moment.
"Maybe you should worry about who stands behind you."
His eyes shifted before returning to mine.
I smiled.
He’d started this conversation wanting me to wonder about my own men.
Now he was wondering about his.
"Finished?"
His nostrils flared.
Ah...There it was.
He stepped forward slightly. "Your organization isn’t as secure as you think."
"Anything else?"
His jaw clenched.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. He looked like he was trying to decide which direction to take the conversation next. I let him. There was no reason to rush him when he was already doing a better job of revealing himself than I could’ve managed by asking questions.
Then he breathed out slowly.
"Tell your father..."
He paused.
"A new reign is coming."
His eyes stayed on mine.
"He’ll understand, boy."
I stared at him.
A new reign.
The words should’ve sounded more impressive than they did. Instead, I found myself wondering how long he’d been waiting to say them, and how many times he’d rehearsed them in his head before finally getting the chance to deliver them.
I glanced around the street.
The rooftops.
The rifles.
The men hidden behind windows.
The car that had led us here.
The shot near the estate.
They’d put a lot of effort into getting my attention.
And now they had it.
More importantly, I’d seen enough to know this wasn’t some random group looking to make noise. The way they moved, the confidence they carried, the fact that they knew enough about our security to find the blind spots... none of that came from nowhere.
What exactly haven’t you told me?
The thought was directed at my old man.
I’d already been wondering how much of this mess was connected to whatever he had kept from me. If this whole childish game was happening because he’d fucked something up, I wasn’t going to wait around politely for an explanation.
I’d find him myself.
And he could explain every fucking detail.
Especially since he still insisted on getting married as though everything around us was perfectly normal.
I almost laughed.
Of all the things my old man could be worried about right now, marriage was apparently still important enough to keep pushing.
Maybe he knew something I didn’t.
Or maybe he simply knew how to hide his problems better than anyone I’d ever met.
Either way, I was done waiting for answers to come looking for me.
I looked back at the man.
He was still waiting.
I didn’t give him a second glance before turning to my men.
"Let’s go."
My men immediately began moving. Scar fell into step beside me, still looking like he’d rather put a bullet through someone than walk away.
I didn’t blame him.
Neither did I care.
We hadn’t come here to waste bullets. I’d come to find out who was behind the trap and I’d found enough to know there was a larger game being played, and I had no intention of letting someone else decide when I was allowed to make my next move.
We walked away without firing a single shot.
He didn’t follow, Neither did he call after us.
The man remained where he was, watching us leave.
I didn’t look back.
There was no point.
I’d already memorized enough.
The faces I’d seen.
The way they moved.
The unworthy confidence.
The knowledge they had about us.
What exactly haven’t you told me, old man?
I pushed the thought aside for the moment.
There was still one thing left.
The message they wanted carried back to my father.
A new reign.
I smiled faintly.
They’d gone through all this trouble to get my attention.
Father, you better have answers.
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