Page 93 of Vows of Ruin

Elias doesn’t look up from his laptop balanced on his thighs. “No—he’s referencing something. The Serpent thing—it’s not us. I’ve seen that phrasing before in the doctor’s files.”

That pulls Wrenley’s attention. “Which files?”

“The psych evaluations Doc was able to pull,” Elias says. “He wrote about the serpent as a concept, saying it represents ‘consumption and renewal through destruction.’ Basically, taking what isn’t his and making it his own. A new order built from what he devours.”

Wrecker frowns. “So… he’s saying what? He’s starting over?”

“He’s saying he’s building something,” Elias answers. “And he’s using you as the blueprint.”

Wrenley exhales slowly, still staring at the letter. “The House of Silk burned to the ground. Every brick. He’s not rebuilding that.”

“Then what’s he talking about?” Torque asks.

She’s quiet for a long beat. Her thumb drags along the edge of the paper, the motion small and controlled. When she finally speaks, her voice is low. “He’s taking from me. Everything I built. Everything that’s mine. The people, the network—he’s remaking it in his own image. That’s what he means by the serpent eating what it loves.”

Max mutters a curse under his breath. “Degenerate asshole.”

Riot leans back, shaking his head. “And the last line? Where it ends?”

Her eyes lift to mine then, sharp, haunted. “My childhood home.”

The room goes still.

Torque straightens. “How can you be sure?”

“Because he’s never mentioned it before,” she says quietly. “Not once. The doctors wrote that his earliest fixation started there. He’s trying to rewrite the story, start at the beginning and finish it his way.”

Elias nods, scrolling through his files. “She’s right. In one of his session notes, he wrote: 'The beginning and the end are the same place; it’s where I learned what belonging costs.’ That matches perfectly with the phrasing in this note.”

I can feel the tension in the room shift. The reality sets in, this isn’t random. This is him drawing a map.

Wrenley folds the paper with slow precision and sets it on the coffee table. “He’s saying, Come find me.”

Her tone is steady, but I can hear the pulse of fear beneath it, not for herself, but for what it means.

I meet her eyes. “Then we will.”

She nods once. “Together.”

“Always.”

The word feels like steel between my teeth. The rest of the room starts moving, Riot asking Elias to pinpoint the address. Torque is already muttering about logistics, but all I can see is the look on her face. The calm before the kind of storm that only she can start. He wants her to come find him. He’s going to regret that.

Wrenley stands, silent as a fuse just before it burns down. The note sits on the table in front of her, folded neat, the wax seal broken and bleeding red into the paper. She moves toward the far wall, slow and deliberate, that dangerous kind of quiet that means she’s gone somewhere inside herself.

Her hand drifts down to her hip, fingers brushing the thin line of scar tissue where Sebastian’s teeth tore into her flesh after the crash. I see the flicker of a memory cross her face, pain, defiance, something darker, before she shakes her head and turns away.

Max’s voice breaks the silence. “I’ve got this one.”

I give a single nod. “Go.”

He’s already moving, following her up the stairs, the sound of his boots fading into the hall. The rest of us stay still until the quiet becomes too heavy. I glance at Margot, who’s still standing near Elias’ laptop, arms folded tight across her chest. She catches my look, frowns, but doesn’t protest when I tilt my head toward the hall.

We end up in the war room, that cold, humming space that smells like gun oil and sleepless nights. The table is buried under maps and open files, photographs of faces we’ve lost or might lose next. I pull one of the chairs out and drop into it, rubbing a hand across my jaw.

Margot crosses her arms. “You look like hell.”

“I feel worse,” I admit. “I need to ask you about a few of the guys.”