I tried to stop him, but he left before I could convince him." Rhett closed his eyes briefly. The club's oldest habit, standing between danger and someone smaller, had become another weakness Hale knew how to exploit.
"Send the exact call record to Cross's team," Rhett said. "And tell them Deak may be inside with Eli." Jace confirmed that the files were already secured and that an outside investigator had acknowledged receipt. "Rhett," he added, "I'm sorry."
Rhett looked at the dark building. "I know. Help us get them out."
Inside, Eli sat on a folding chair beneath a work light that hummed loudly enough to make concentrating difficult. His hands were free, but the men watching him had made it clear that he was not permitted to stand. He could hear water moving beyond the concrete walls, a steady sound that reminded him of nights spent beneath highway bridges during storms. He kept his father's watch hidden beneath his sleeve, touching its edge whenever he needed to remember that time had continued even when his life seemed to have stopped.
Deak stood near the far wall, bruised and unhappy but still capable of speaking steadily. One of the men had let him see Eli for a moment after bringing him inside, then warned him to remain quiet if he wanted the boy to stay unharmed. Deak answered by asking for a blanket and a glass of water for Eli. The request had been treated as an irritation, but eventually a bottle was placed beside the chair.
"You shouldn't have come," Eli whispered when their captors moved far enough away. Deak looked at him. "Probably not," he said. "I've made worse decisions for people I liked less." Eli tried not to smile and failed briefly.
Deak lowered his voice. "Don't try to be brave for me, kid. Be scared if you're scared. Just keep breathing and answer questions honestly when somebody safe arrives."
Eli studied the older man's bruised face. "Dad used to say that," he said. "About being scared." Deak nodded. "Your father was afraid of plenty.
He was just good at not letting that decide who he became." He looked toward the doorway. "Rhett's looking for you. And he doesn't give up on people."
The man in charge of the plant was Garrett, a former county enforcement officer who now handled difficult assignments for Hale's private security network. He wore a neat jacket and spoke with the quiet authority of someone who believed people obeyed him because he deserved obedience. He had been told to keep the boy unharmed as long as possible, not out of mercy but because Eli remained useful. The notebook and the watch, he believed, had led the club to evidence his employer needed recovered.
Garrett entered the room carrying a phone. "Callahan's outside," he told Deak. "He'll come in when we tell him. You'd better hope he's smarter than his friend Caleb was." Deak's face changed, not with rage, but with a stillness that made the man step back before he understood why. "You don't get to talk about Caleb in front of his son," Deak said.