6 hours ago
He hadn’t been keeping up with Custody announcements lately, but that name hit like a bag of bricks. Not because of Cyrena, specifically. But because of her father. Marveet had been in Mexico. Back when Amengual's trap caught him and Natalie. When his parents were killed. When he finally tasted revenge and left a pile of body bags in his wake.
Marveet was the only reason he and Natalie weren’t in two of them.
Jay exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing just a touch. He filed that away. Then came the second name. Volthstrom.
The Volthstroms were stories more than people. Oligarch ghosts. Wealth with a pulse. His brain skipped sideways to some old conversation about how they operated outside of lawful structures, how they had their fingers in places no fingers belonged. Jay had half-joked that they were probably aliens, or descended from them. He'd have to tell Natalie about this. Just in case it meant something.
But now here was one in a fucking hospital waiting room of all places, dressed like he’d stepped out of a monarchic fever dream. Jay's brow lifted slightly. Then he offered the hand that still worked, his left, ignoring the way his right throbbed in protest with every passing second.
“Jay Carpenter.”
No rank. No title. Just Jay.
If Carter was watching closely, he’d catch the glint of recognition in Jay’s eyes. Just enough to show he understood enough. But he didn’t gawk. Didn’t pry. Just locked eyes, steady, and added dryly: “Hell of a night.”
Marveet was the only reason he and Natalie weren’t in two of them.
Jay exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing just a touch. He filed that away. Then came the second name. Volthstrom.
The Volthstroms were stories more than people. Oligarch ghosts. Wealth with a pulse. His brain skipped sideways to some old conversation about how they operated outside of lawful structures, how they had their fingers in places no fingers belonged. Jay had half-joked that they were probably aliens, or descended from them. He'd have to tell Natalie about this. Just in case it meant something.
But now here was one in a fucking hospital waiting room of all places, dressed like he’d stepped out of a monarchic fever dream. Jay's brow lifted slightly. Then he offered the hand that still worked, his left, ignoring the way his right throbbed in protest with every passing second.
“Jay Carpenter.”
No rank. No title. Just Jay.
If Carter was watching closely, he’d catch the glint of recognition in Jay’s eyes. Just enough to show he understood enough. But he didn’t gawk. Didn’t pry. Just locked eyes, steady, and added dryly: “Hell of a night.”
Only darkness shows you the light.