Chapter Eighty-Six
I sat on the edge of the mattress for what felt like hours, watching the pale evening light fade into an absolute, inky blackness.
Downstairs, the quiet hum of the clubhouse gradually softened as members dispersed to their quarters or took up watch shifts along the perimeter walls. The compound was settling into the uneasy stillness that always followed a crisis.
The bedroom door opened without a knock.
Jake stepped into the dark room. He didn't turn on the lamp. The moonlight streaming through the high window caught the dark leather of his vest and the sharp, tired lines of his face. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron lighter.
He didn't say a word. He walked straight over to the nightstand, picked up the white envelope, and slipped it into the breast pocket of
