Jax
Two days.
That’s how long we stayed buried in that warehouse, living off canned food, bad coffee, and nerves stretched thin.
Viper went quiet.
That didn’t mean he was gone. It meant he was tired. Or regrouping. Either way, silence in my world never meant peace.
Grizz finally called just after sunrise on the third day.
“Looks clean,” he said. “No movement. No tails. Viper pulled his guys back.”
I leaned against the wall, phone tight in my hand. “You sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” he said. “My boys swept the routes. Nothing. If he’s still watching, he’s doing it from far away.”
That was good enough for me.
I hung up and looked across the warehouse. Layla was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up, flipping through an old magazine she’d found somewhere. She looked calmer than she
