20. Quentin

The boilingrage is about to reach the point of no return. Every part of me wants to storm through the world searching for her, but I know that makes no sense. It will be a waste of precious time and energy. We need to focus and find the right castle to storm. I pace the length of Vogue's living room, feeling the weight of the silence that hovers over us. Callum stands by the window, his jaw tight, while Thayer flips through notes on his phone, and Harrison rubs at his shoulder, which I've patched up as best I can under the circumstances.

"The Black Vipers want Crestmont," I start, voice steady as if we're discussing the weather, not a fucking turf war. "We let them think they can push us around, we might as well hand over our wallets and keys too."

Callum turns from the window, eyes dark with thoughts he's not saying. "Crestmont's more than land. It's influence, connections. We lose that, we're bleeding out in shark-infested waters."

"Rescuing Vogue puts a target on us. And her," Harrison states, leaning back against the couch. His hands still now, folded across his chest.

"Since when do we bow to threats?" Thayer cuts in, all calculated coolness as he taps on his phone, probably already scheming.

"Since never," I snap, my heart racing with fear for Vogue and fury at the situation. "Vogue is mine. Ours. And I'm not about to let those snakes think they can take what's ours without a fight."

Callum's eyes shoot to mine when he hears my slip-up. I don't give a fuck. I want them all to know Vogue and I shagged on the hilltop. Harry probably already knows. This changed everything for me. Last night changed me. If I lose her now, I might as well slit my wrists and bleed out because my life is worth shit without her in it.

I rub my thumb absently over the old scars from attempts past, each time thwarted by the fuckers who held me captive under the guise of family for twenty fucking years. Each nod is slow, weighted with unspoken agreements and shared resolve. This is a risk, but backing down isn't in our playbook. Not when it comes to Vogue.

"We hit them fast, hit them hard," I say, my mind already racing through a dozen scenarios. "Use what we know about Crestmont, turn it into our battleground."

"Let's plan this out, step by step," Thayer suggests, always the voice of strategy as he sees my plan for what it is.

Callum leans back, his gaze steady as he watches me wear a path in the already thin carpet. He doesn't rush to speak, doesn't hurry to fill the silence. That's his way—measured, calculated.

"Look, I get it," I say, pausing in front of him. "There's no guarantee we'll come out on top. But since when do we shy away from a fight? If we don't stand our ground, it's not just Vogue we lose—it's respect, fear, and control."

"Quentin has a point," Harrison murmurs, though his eyes are hard with concern. "But this isn't about rushing in guns blazing. It's about being smart—smarter than them."

"Smart, sure," I concede, raking a hand over my head. "But fast, too. Every tick of the clock is a tick against us."

"I know. I don't disagree," Callum says, his voice low but commanding. "But we need a tight, fool proof plan. Thayer, you're on logistics. Harrison, you sort out what gear we need without attracting attention. Quentin, you're our eyes—find their weaknesses, find Vogue."

"Understood." I give him a brief nod.

"Remember, this isn't just about her safety," Callum continues, meeting my stare with one as fierce as any challenge. "It's about sending a message. You touch ours; you pay the price."

"Then let's make sure it's a price they can't afford," I say, the fire in my blood stoked.

"Exactly," Callum nods, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips—a predator readying for the hunt.

Harrison leans forward. "So, what do we know about the Black Vipers other than they're a bunch of pissy little wannabes?" He holds his finger up. "Firstly, we know they operate out of underground clubs, mostly hidden from plain sight. They fancy themselves kings of the nightlife. Vogue is probably in one of their clubs."

"Probably doesn't cut it," I snap, my pulse racing with urgency.

"Give me credit, Quentin. I don't deal in maybes," Harrison retorts, cool as ever. "I've got eyes on their turf—trustworthy guys. If she's there, we'll know soon enough."

"Fine," I say, every muscle tense. "We move when you get confirmation. If she's hurt?—"

"We hurt them more," Harrison finishes, his voice like gravel.

Thayer, phone pressed to his ear, speaks in low, rapid tones. He flips his knife through his fingers over and over. Ending the call, he turns to us, steady and sharp. "I've got transportation covered, ready to move out when we are."

"Armoury?" Callum asks, arms crossed over his chest. It's all business as Harry gets to work on his contacts.

"Is that even a question?" I growl. "You've seen the trunk in my room."

He grins, but there's no humour, only evil. "Been dying to get my hands on some of that kit."

I flash him a rare smile in return, but then the pain and fear of losing the only person who can make me feel anything other than darkness flares up, and I grimace again. "Routes?" I press, needing to visualise this play-by-play.

"Depends where she is, but if she's in the city, which is my guess, that's easy." Harrison seems confident in this assessment and starts murmuring to someone on his phone.

"Let's hope you're right," I mutter, knowing full well that even the best plans can bleed out in the backstreets.

He gives me the finger but with a wicked smile that I can only roll my eyes at.

Callum's jaw sets hard as he stares at us, his eyes flicking from face to face. Each of us is a live wire, ready to spark. "We've got the upper hand inside Crestmont. Our people are everywhere—staff, students, security. We use that. We turn their own game against them. One of the Vipers is slithering in our ranks, and we need to smoke them out. This isn't random. This is infiltration, and that fucks me off on a level you can't even understand right now."

"How do we smoke them out?" Thayer asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Inside jobs. Diversions. Misinformation," he shoots back. "We've got contacts who owe us favours, ones who can flip loyalties for the right price. We spread false leads, make the Vipers chase shadows while we go in quiet."

"Quiet's good," Harrison nods slowly, the idea taking root. "But timing is everything. One slip and Vogue's in deeper shit than before."

"Then we don't slip."

My gaze locks with Cal's, the determination in my veins burning like fire.

"We get her out, and we remind the Vipers why no one messes with The Crowned Syndicate. This is a double-edged sword. Two strikes. Not at the same time. We play the longer game. Vogue first, spies afterwards."

"What makes you think they'll stick around?" I ask him.

"They want Crestmont, and this spy or spies are UC. They won't get pulled out, not yet, even if this rescue goes sideways. They're committed. They'll stick it out."

I nod and look at Thayer.

"Let's map it out then," Thayer says, reaching for his phone again, his brain ticking over the details. "If we're doing this, we do it smart. No traces, no loose ends."

"Agreed," Callum states, the leader in full control. "We play this close, hit them where it hurts, and bring Vogue back where she belongs."

"Alright." I'm getting frantic, edgy, dangerous, but I keep my face cool and composed. I've got a job to do now. "I'll start by gathering gear and resources."

"Good." Callum nods, his focus shifting as he starts formulating plans within plans. "Thayer, you're on logistics. Harrison, intel on the Vipers' location and security. We need to know what we're walking into, and remember, discretion is key. Not a word of the bigger plan goes beyond these walls. We don't want to spook them into doing something stupid."

"Understood," Thayer responds crisply, looking like his mind is already racing through contacts and safe houses.

Harrison cracks his knuckles, a grim smile playing on his lips. "I'll get us what we need. They won't see us coming."

"Time to bring her home," I whisper. The Black Vipers will regret ever crossing us, and I can't wait to make them pay as painfully as fucking possible.