Chapter 39: A Promise (Silas POV)
The shed’s dark, air thick with dust, and Vance’s name, high-ranking, conspirator, hangs heavy between us, glowing on Nico’s phone screen. My chest’s still tight from breaking down, Cole’s voice echoing in my head, but Nico’s hand on mine, warm and steady, keeps me here. I pull back, slow, wiping my face rough with my sleeve, and look at him, hard, seeing his eyes, dark, fierce, ready. “We’re done running,” I say, loud, voice raw but firm, standing fast. “We take this to Mercer.”
Nico nods, quick, standing too, close enough I feel his heat. “Yeah,” he says, low, his jaw tight. “No more hiding, him, Vance, all of them.” My heart’s pounding, steady now, anger mixing with the grief, pushing me forward. I grab the USB, fast, shoving it in my pocket, and pace the small space, mind racing, Mercer’s ambushes, Cole’s crash, the threats, all tying back to him. “He’s the key,” I say, sharp, turning to Nico. “We hit him, we break this open.”
He steps closer, steady, his hand brushing my arm, light but sure. “How?” he asks, quiet, watching me close. I stop, slow, breathing hard, and think, Mercer’s slick, connected, but we’ve got proof now, Cole’s words, Vance’s name. “We find him,” I say, loud, locking eyes with him. “Use the USB, lean on Harper, get him cornered.” Nico’s mouth quirks, small, a spark there. “And finish it,” he says, soft, nodding fast, like he’s all in.
I feel it, us, shifting, no more scrambling in the dark, taking the fight straight to them. My hand’s shaking, adrenaline still high, and I dig in my pocket again, slow, pulling out two old dog tags, mine and Cole’s, scratched up, from nights we’d mess around, pretending we were soldiers. I hold them up, quiet, the metal cool in my palm, and look at Nico, steady. “For luck,” I say, low, handing him one, the chain dangling loose.
He takes it, slow, fingers brushing mine, and looks at it, hard, then back at me. “Commitment,” he says, quiet, slipping it over his neck, the tag resting on his chest. I nod, fast, putting mine on too, feeling the weight settle, a promise tying us tighter. “No matter what happens,” I say, loud, stepping closer, my hand on his shoulder, firm, “we finish this together.” His eyes soften, warm, and he grabs my wrist, light, holding me there. “Together,” he says, soft, voice steady, meaning it deep.
We stand there, close, the shed’s shadows wrapping us, and I feel it, him, me, us, stronger than the mess outside. My hand slides down, slow, finding his, and I squeeze, hard, the dog tags clinking soft between us. “You and me,” I say, quiet, looking right at him, and he smiles, small, leaning in, his forehead brushing mine for a second, warm, real. “Always,” he says, low, and my chest fills, steady, like we’re locked in, no breaking now.
I pull back, slow, grabbing my phone, quick, texting Harper, “Mercer’s ours. USB’s got Vance. Where’s he at?” She replies fast: “Checking. Stay sharp.” I show Nico, steady, and he nods, fast, sitting back on a crate, pulling me down beside him. “She’ll find him,” he says, quiet, his knee pressing mine again, keeping us close. I nod, slow, feeling the fight coming, but us, us is what’s holding me up, keeping me sure.
We sit, quiet, hands still linked, and I think back, Cole, gone, my fault or not, but Nico here, alive, fighting with me. “I should’ve seen it,” I say, low, staring at the floor, the guilt creeping back. He shakes his head, quick, squeezing my hand tighter. “You didn’t know,” he says, soft, pulling me out of it. “But we know now, Mercer, Vance, the whole game.” I look at him, steady, and nod, slow, letting it settle, we’re not just running blind anymore.
The shed’s still, air heavy, and Nico shifts, slow, digging in his bag, pulling out a crumpled notebook, mine, stuff I’d scribbled about Cole, the crash, leads we’d chased. “This,” he says, quiet, flipping it open, pointing at a page. “You wrote it, Mercer’s name, weeks back, tied to the club.” My gut twists, fast, and I grab it, quick, scanning the lines, dates, notes, a hunch I’d forgotten, linking him to Vance’s crew. “How’d I miss that?” I say, loud, staring at it, pieces clicking hard.
Nico’s hand rests on my back, light, and he leans in, close, reading over my shoulder. “You didn’t,” he says, soft, voice steady. “It’s here, we just needed the rest.” I nod, fast, feeling it, us, piecing it together, stronger now, and I turn the page, slow, seeing more, names, places, a final bit scrawled messy at the bottom: “Vance meets at the docks, top brass.” My breath stops, cold, and I look at Nico, wide-eyed, the last puzzle piece dropping sharp in front of us.