Chapter 23: The Aftermath
The Rusty Nail’s chaos faded behind us as we stumbled into the May night—Jake’s arm heavy around me, Tyler limping, the air cool with relief. Rico’s cuffs clinked in my memory, his truck towed, Cara’s bloody smirk a victory stamp. We piled into Tyler’s Jeep—dents fresh from the warehouse—and rolled to Oak Street, silent but buzzing, Jake’s hand tight in mine. “Station tomorrow,” I said, breaking the quiet, leaning on his shoulder. “Cops have the list—Rico’s done.” “Yeah,” Jake muttered, voice rough, brushing blood from his lip. “If Vega doesn’t pull strings.” “He won’t,” Tyler said, steering one-handed, football tucked beside him. “Cara’s dirt’s tight—chief’s hot for it. You’re clear, man.” Jake nodded, faint smile flickering, but his eyes stayed dark—haunted, not free. We crashed at h
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