Footsteps echoed heavily on the concrete basement stairs as another guard marched down toward them, his low gasps rumbling in his chest. But the tiredness quickly disappears from his face, replaced by a hard, dangerous edge. He looked genuinely annoyed, partly by their drawn-out bickering, and partly by something far more urgent.
"You two!" the guard barked, cutting straight through the heavy air between them. "Your man is causing a ruckus. Cobra has summoned you lot to the main building right now. Move fast, or we won't hesitate to put down that feral man."
His voice had dropped into a dark, unmistakable threat.
The words hit Maarg like a bucket of ice water. All the awkward tension and shock of Gabby's accidental confession vanished instantly. Jack.
Maarg's mind raced. Knowing how fiercely protective Jack was, and how raw and volatile the situation with Sammy's trauma still was, it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Someone in the Viper compound must have crossed a line, said the wrong thing about Sammy, or looked at her the wrong way and Jack had completely gone berserk, fists flying.
Gabby picks up the leather case and the other guns hoisting them onto her shoulder, she starts picking up all the weapons that they had picked.
"Lead the way," Maarg said, his voice hard and entirely devoid of its earlier playful energy.
Without wasting another second, Maarg bolted up the stairs, sprinting out of the armory and toward the main building before Jack crossed a line he couldn't come back from.
Maarg bolted across the compound courtyard, his boots kicking up dust as he sprinted toward the main building. A dense crowd of Viper members had already formed, murmuring and craning their necks, blocking the entrance.
Without breaking stride, Maarg shoved roughly through the horde, elbowing past bodies until he broke through to the center of the room.
The scene unfolding before him was a nightmare. Jack was pinned hard against the floor by two heavy-set guards, their boots planted on his back while sidearms were pressed menacingly against the back and side of his head. Jack's knuckles were bloodied, his chest heaving, his face twisted in a feral, protective rage as he fought against the weight holding him down.
Maarg's jaw tightened so hard he bit down too deep—a sharp metallic tang filled his mouth as a few drops of blood welled on his lips.
"What the fuck is the meaning of this?!" Maarg roared, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd like a razor.
Before he could lung forward to tear the guards off his friend, a sharp command rang out from the side.
"Stop right there."
It was Carla. She stepped forward from the shadow of the arched doorway, her expression a mix of cold authority and deep exhaustion. With a flick of her hand, she signaled the guards to back off and pull their weapons away from Jack's head.
Jack scrambled up onto his hands and knees, coughing, while Maarg's gaze snapped straight to Carla, locking onto her with laser-like intensity.
"Ms. Carla, I thought we had an agreement," Maarg said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but it carried an ice-cold, razor-sharp edge that made the surrounding crowd quiet down instantly. "So what is the meaning of this?"
Carla let out a heavy sigh, her face full of genuine disappointment. She didn't look angry; she looked like a tired matriarch trying to hold a crumbling house together.
"I'm sorry, Maarg. I really am," Carla said softly, crossing her arms. "I failed to account for the parasites Andrew was calling his friends. In their misguided, pathetic little ways, they tried to get revenge for him."
She paused, letting her gaze sweep over the onlookers before returning to Maarg and Jack. "They knew they couldn't take Jack in a fair fight, so they targeted his weak spot. They tried to break his heart. They whispered lies to him, the kind of vile lies no man with a shred of honor or loyalty would ever want to hear about his friend."
She paused again, letting the heavy, suffocating implications of the attack settle over the room.
Maarg's mind raced, a chilling series of connections snapping together in rapid succession. Jack was baited. The lies about Sammy...
"Where is Sammy?" Maarg demanded immediately.
His voice was trembling ever so slightly, betraying the terrifying vortex of panic threatening to tear him apart inside. Despite the chaotic storm raging in his head, his face remained locked in a terrifying, deadpan calm.
Carla held up a reassuring hand, her expression softening with genuine regret. "Don't worry, she is safe. If only I had been a little quicker, I could have stopped this whole mess before it started."
She took a deep, weary breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her son's toxic legacy. "Sammy is in the medbay. I've stationed my most trusted people at the door to protect her. I only just came out here after getting her safely settled."
"Kai will be here in a moment. With him, we can discuss what to do about this situation," Carla said, her gaze shifting from Jack, who was still catching his breath on the ground, back to Maarg.
"Don't worry," she added, offering a tired, reassuring nod with a weak smile. "I will make sure Kai understands the whole situation, and the ones who spread those rumors will be punished accordingly."
Maarg exhaled slowly, the iron-tight grip on his nerves loosening just a fraction, though the cold fury in his chest didn't vanish. He offered a curt, sharp nod in return, acknowledging her authority while keeping his guard firmly up.
Nearby, Gabby finally caught up, sliding to a stop beside them with the leather rifle case still slung over her shoulder and the newly acquired sniper rifle tucked safely inside. She took in the tense atmosphere, the lingering crowd, and Jack's battered knuckles, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the tactical layout of the room just in case things went south.
---
She turned, offering a polite nod of acknowledgment to Gabby, who had just arrived with the heavy leather case and cloth rugsack slung over her shoulder. To fill the tense, heavy silence before Cobra's arrival, Carla decided to pivot to lighter ground.
"So? Have you picked up your new equipment?" she asked, looking between them.
For a second, nobody answered. The heavy fallout of the fight hung too thick in the air—until Gabby broke the silence. A massive, undeniable grin broke across her face, completely oblivious to the gravity of the surrounding tension as the gear-head inside her took over.
"Yes, we have," Gabby said brightly, patting the leather case. "Cobra might be cold, but I have to respect his taste in guns."
Carla let out a warm, low chuckle, the dark atmosphere easing by a fraction. "I suppose he does have a peculiar taste in a lot of things."
Before Carla could elaborate, the crowd parted.
Cobra stepped out into the courtyard, and one look at him made it obvious he was in no mood for pleasantries. His expression was a thundercloud of dark exhaustion, his jaw clenched tight. It was clear he was just as thoroughly sick and tired of his son Andrew's toxic lingering shadow, and the pathetic, destructive loyalty of Andrew's sycophants, as everyone else.