After dinner, Owen went upstairs again, drawing curious glances from his mother and Amanda. Since returning that afternoon, he'd been holed up in his room, clearly busy with something. He only came down for dinner, and even then, he wore headphones and wolfed down his food, barely speaking a word before disappearing upstairs again. His behavior was unusual enough that his mother and McCall exchanged a look—clearly something was going on. She figured Steve's days at home were probably numbered again.
In his room, Owen stood by the window, his face dark and brooding. He pulled off his headphones and opened the window, letting in the cool night air as he stared into the distance, lost in thought.
He wasn't naïve. Of course he never thought a single warning would be enough to stop "Crocodile" Billy. Back in the parking lot earlier, Owen had stolen Billy's phone number from the short-haired thug's contacts. As soon as he got home, he began surveillance.
The intel system Sweetheart had provided him was state-of-the-art, tapping directly into local telecom providers without needing any physical bugs. It was the kind of surveillance the NSA specialized in—powerful enough to spy on world leaders and ambassadors during the PRISM scandal. Compared to that, some country thug like Billy was nothing.
Of course, it wasn't exactly legal. But Sweetheart guaranteed that no one would ever trace it back to them.
Just moments ago, Owen had listened in on a call between Billy and someone named Keel—an associate of the Wanderers gang in New Orleans. The content of the call made Owen's blood boil. Brock's identity had been exposed, and the enemies weren't just coming for him—they were planning to take out his entire family. When they talked about Amanda, the words they used made Owen want to hunt Billy down immediately and break every bone in his body.
The only silver lining was that their primary target was Brock. His mother and Amanda hadn't been identified—at most, they were considered collateral damage.
Another sound crackled in his earpiece—another call, this time someone calling Billy. The Wanderers were shockingly fast. After confirming Billy's information, they had decided to act immediately. They were heading for Reville that very night. It was clear how deep the vendetta between Brock and Danny Turri ran—the Wanderers didn't want to waste a single moment.
Owen mulled it over, then headed downstairs to find McCall. As usual after dinner, McCall was relaxing on a recliner out on the covered patio, reading a book. Owen found him there.
He glanced toward the living room, where his mother and Amanda were watching TV. Then, making a trigger-pulling gesture, he quietly asked, "Got any unregistered weapons?"
He'd already made up his mind. If Billy and his people were so eager to die, so be it. Ever since Paris, Owen had vowed never to let Amanda get hurt again. Anyone who tried would die for it. Once, his mission had also been to protect his mother. Now, that responsibility rested with McCall.
"Trouble?" McCall raised an eyebrow.
"Same deal from Amanda's school. Brock's identity got leaked somehow. Local punks contacted his enemies. We're now part of the mess."
"Need backup?"
McCall's usual persona was that of a calm, affable uncle—the kind of guy everyone in town liked. But at this moment, a subtle shift in his demeanor made him look like a drawn blade.
"No. They're small-time. I'll handle it quietly."
McCall immediately understood. That was also his preferred method.
"Follow me. Pick what you need."
He put down his book and reading glasses and led Owen to the study. McCall pulled out a specific book from the shelf, revealing a hidden button. Pressing it caused the mirror wall to crack open, revealing a secret entrance.
Owen followed him down a narrow passage into a wider room—clearly a hidden armory. McCall flicked on the lights, illuminating a wall of neatly organized weapons.
Owen had expected something like this. A man like McCall would never retire without building a personal armory. And, of course, none of these guns were on any official registry.
McCall's obsessive nature was evident. Every weapon was categorized by type. Even the ammunition was stacked in perfect order.
Owen selected a Glock 17 and a Uzi, along with several loaded magazines. He considered taking flashbangs and grenades, but decided against it. The weapons he chose were common among street dealers and black market traffickers—easily traceable to that world.
His thinking was simple: he wasn't just going to eliminate the threat; he was going to frame someone else for it. If Billy really was a drug dealer, the cover story would write itself—The Wanderers invaded the local market, sparked a turf war, and violence broke out. That's why he had to use firearms typical of low-level criminals. If he showed up using a SIG P229 or FN Five-seveN, people might suspect a military or federal connection.
Body armor was a must. Owen strapped on a lightweight Kevlar vest and secured both weapons on a tactical harness. He also grabbed a suppressor for the Glock, tucking it away to attach later.
"That it?" McCall asked.
"That'll do."
"Take this too. You might need it." McCall handed him a karambit. Owen nodded and secured it to his thigh rig.
"I'll hold down the fort here. If you need anything, call. Should we alert Brock?"
"Not yet. But we can bring Mandy over."
If he could avoid it, Owen didn't want Brock learning about their real identities. McCall nodded in understanding.
They left the hidden room and retraced their steps. The entrance was cleverly concealed behind a two-way mirror—standard interrogation-room style. From outside, it looked like a normal mirror. From within, you could see out.
As they approached the exit, they saw Amanda and their mother standing in the study, clearly waiting. The women had noticed the two men disappearing and had been waiting for answers.
Everyone in the family knew about the hidden room—except Owen, who had just seen it for the first time. Once the women saw McCall and Owen slip into the study so secretively, they knew something was up and decided to wait there.
Seeing Owen emerge in tactical gear confirmed their suspicions. But before they could ask, Owen explained:
"Nicole's brother is Crocodile Billy. He's brought in out-of-town drug traffickers."
"All this over a fight between kids?" Amanda looked incredulous.
"It's not just that," Owen said. "Brock's a cop. Billy brought in his enemies. They're the real target—we're just collateral damage."
That clarified things. Then Owen laid out the plan—his role, McCall's, and what they should do.
Neither Amanda nor their mother objected. When it came to combat and tactics, they trusted Owen and McCall completely. Their past experiences had taught them that, in matters of life and death, you leave decisions to the professionals.
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