Chapter Thirty-Eight
Blade’s POV
I stayed in the dark garage for a long time after her boots stopped echoing on the gravel outside.
My knuckles were split open, my nose was swollen from Grip's forehead, and the fresh thread on my collarbone had turned into a bloody mess beneath my clean black shirt. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the absolute, suffocating isolation crashing down on me.
The laptop was dead. My original burner phone was dust. My contact line to the Vipers—the only bridge connecting me to the ghost of my father and the revenge I’d built my entire life around—was completely severed.
I was flying blind in a den of wolves.
I walked back to the prospect bunkhouse, my movements mechanical. I didn't look at the main house as I passed it. I didn't look at the wi
