Vivian barely slept.
The warehouse had grown quiet hours ago. Jamo's men had cleared out, leaving only two guards outside and the steady sound of rain against metal. The storm had slowed but hadn't stopped, turning the river outside into a restless black current.
She sat on the edge of a narrow couch in the small office Jamo had given her, staring at the photograph still clutched in her hand.
Lucas.
The picture was grainy, taken from a distance, but the shape of the shoulders, the way the man stood slightly angled as if ready to move at any moment it stirred something painful and familiar in her chest.
It could be him.
Or it could be someone who looked enough like him to destroy her hope all over again.
Vivian exhaled slowly and dropped the photo onto the table.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope made people careless.
And careless hunters died.
A knock came at the door.
She didn't bother answering.
Jamo stepped in anyway.
He had changed clothes since earlier. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled slightly, hair still damp from the night air. The controlled energy around him filled the small room instantly.
Vivian didn't look up.
"You don't knock to ask permission," she said.
"No," Jamo replied. "I knock to warn you I'm coming in."
She leaned back slightly.
"That's thoughtful."
"You don't look like you've slept."
"I didn't."
Jamo's eyes moved to the photograph on the table.
"You're thinking too much."
Vivian scoffed.
"You drop the possibility that my brother is alive and expect me to sleep peacefully?"
"That's not what I expected."
"Good."
Silence stretched between them.
Jamo stepped further into the room, stopping near the window that looked out toward the river.
"We move in an hour," he said.
Vivian straightened slightly.
"That fast?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Jamo's jaw tightened slightly.
"My scouts confirmed activity near the docks tonight."
Her heart kicked harder.
"You think they're moving people again."
"I know they are."
Vivian stood.
The tired heaviness in her body vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar sharp focus of a hunt.
"Then why are we still talking?"
Jamo studied her.
"You're not part of my pack," he said.
"Obviously."
"You don't take orders from me."
"Also obvious."
"But tonight," he continued, "you follow my plan."
Vivian crossed her arms.
"And if your plan is stupid?"
"It isn't."
"That's what everyone thinks about their plans."
Jamo stepped closer.
The tension between them tightened again, quiet and electric.
"You want answers about your brother," he said calmly.
"Yes."
"Then don't ruin the one chance we might have."
Vivian held his gaze.
She hated that he was right.
Hated even more that she trusted his instincts more than she wanted to admit.
"Fine," she muttered.
Jamo nodded once.
"Good."
He turned toward the door but stopped.
"There's something else."
Vivian groaned quietly.
"You're really enjoying these dramatic pauses."
Jamo ignored the comment.
"My father's name came up in those documents too."
Vivian's patience snapped instantly.
"Then stop dancing around it and explain."
Jamo faced her again.
"My father ran this territory before me."
"I assumed that."
"He made alliances with other packs."
"Also not shocking."
"But one alliance," Jamo continued slowly, "was never officially recorded."
Vivian's stomach tightened.
"Which alliance?"
Jamo watched her carefully.
"The Black pack."
The name hit her like ice water.
"That pack was wiped out," she said.
"I know."
"You're suggesting your father had dealings with them?"
"Yes."
Vivian shook her head slowly.
"No."
Jamo didn't respond.
"That's impossible," she continued. "My pack didn't trust outsiders."
"Yet my father trusted your brother."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"Lucas wasn't involved in pack politics," she said.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Jamo held her gaze for a long moment.
"Vivian," he said quietly, "what if he was?"
The question lodged somewhere deep and painful.
Lucas had always protected her.
Always kept certain things from her.
At the time she thought it was because she was younger.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Vivian pushed the thought away.
"You're reaching," she said.
"Maybe."
"Or maybe you're trying to make my brother part of your city politics."
"That would be pointless."
"Why?"
Jamo stepped closer again.
"Because if Lucas Black is alive," he said calmly, "he's not just connected to the traffickers."
Vivian felt a chill crawl down her spine.
"What are you saying?"
Jamo's voice dropped slightly.
"I think your brother might be the reason they started operating here in the first place."
The words settled heavily between them.
Vivian shook her head immediately.
"No."
"You don't know that."
"My brother would never work with traffickers."
"I didn't say he did."
"Then what are you saying?"
Jamo looked toward the window again, toward the dark river.
"I'm saying someone believes he's valuable."
Vivian's pulse pounded in her ears.
"For what?"
Jamo turned back toward her.
"That's what we're about to find out."
A loud knock echoed from the hallway.
One of Jamo's men pushed the door open slightly.
"Alpha," the guard said, "the vehicles are ready."
Jamo nodded.
"We're leaving."
The guard disappeared.
Vivian grabbed her jacket.
Her body hummed with adrenaline now.
Hunt mode.
Focus sharp. Thoughts clear.
She glanced at Jamo.
"If this turns out to be a trap," she said, "I'm blaming you."
"That seems fair."
They walked out of the office together and into the wide warehouse floor.
Three black SUVs waited near the open loading doors. Jamo's men were already moving into position, checking weapons and radios.
The air smelled like rain and gasoline.
Vivian climbed into the passenger seat of the first vehicle without asking.
Jamo slid into the driver's seat.
"You trust me to drive?" he asked.
"No."
"Then why get in?"
Vivian buckled the seatbelt.
"Because if you crash, I want to be there to say I told you so."
Jamo started the engine.
The SUV rolled out of the warehouse and onto the empty road leading toward the docks.
The city lights flickered faintly in the distance through the rain.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
Then Vivian finally said the thing that had been sitting heavy in her chest all night.
"If Lucas is alive…"
Jamo didn't look at her.
"Yes?"
Her voice was quieter now.
"And if he's somehow involved in this…"
She hesitated.
"What happens then?"
Jamo's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Then we find out the truth."
"And if the truth is ugly?"
The SUV slowed as the docks came into view.
Large cargo containers stretched across the dark waterfront like silent metal giants.
Jamo finally looked at her.
"In this city," he said quietly,
"the truth usually is."