Broken Hands

90. The past resurfacing

"Please double-check your findings. Something isn't adding up. We're missing too many pieces to complete this puzzle," Damien's deep, commanding voice filled the study as his eyes scanned the files on his laptop screen.

"I understand," the voice on the other end replied. "But we're not entirely clueless. All evidence points to the same organization Thomas Perez once ran. We've apprehended several members, and each had the scorpion tattoo—a mark of their allegiance. They mentioned some kind of device Perez had, a key, as they called it. Whatever it is, I believe it's critical to piecing this together."

Damien frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration. "When Perez was killed, we scoured his home. There was nothing—no so-called device that held mysteries, no key. It could just be a red herring to mislead us. Double-check everything and forward me the results. We need to lock these criminals up and shut this operation down, permanently."

He ended the call with a sharp click, leaning back in his chair and staring at the screen. A key? Even if it existed, it was likely long gone—or worse, hidden in plain sight.

The door to the study swung open, and Alex strolled in, balancing two steaming cups of coffee. His casualty contrasted sharply with Damien's tense posture.

Alex paused mid-step, noticing the look on Damien's face. "What's wrong? You look like you're about to punch the screen."

Damien reached for one of the cups, his movements deliberate. "It's the Perez case. Still lingering. His gang is operating as if he never left. We've taken down a few members, but their network is massive. It's unsettling."

Alex's usually calm expression darkened as he set his cup down. "That's no good news. The last thing we need is for this to circle back to Grayson. He's doing better, but something like this could wreck him. Maybe we should send the boys to the castle until this blows over."

Damien shook his head, his expression stiff, "That won't be necessary. If they were targeting Grayson, they would've made a move already. Why wait?"

Alex didn't look convinced. "Still, I don't like it. I'm not taking any chances."

"They can't leave until after exams anyway," Damien added. "And Grayson wouldn't like the idea of the castle."

Alex leaned back on the couch, rubbing his temples. "Maybe, but he's curious about his mother. The castle might give him answers, especially with Father there."

Damien looked far from pleased. "Bad idea. He's not ready for that conversation. It'll do more harm than good. His mental health is fragile. Stray's death is still weighing on him, but I believe he'll pull through."

Alex hesitated, then sighed, "yeah. The test results... negative, right?"

Damien nodded. "Yes, but she mentioned there's still a chance he could develop symptoms down the line. Grayson's progress has been remarkable, but we need to keep an eye on him."

Alex sighed deeply, his gaze turning reflective. "I'm worried about his reliance on those pills. He might be taking more than he should, and I don't want to push him into a corner by monitoring every move. That might make him lie or shut us out."

Damien grunted, his expression unreadable. "Speak with his therapist. See if there's a better option. But you're right—it won't be easy."

Before Alex could respond, a soft knock interrupted the conversation. The door creaked open, revealing Grayson standing there. His awkward stance and hesitant expression spoke volumes.

"Come in, Gray. What's up?" Alex urged, his tone warm.

Grayson stepped inside, clearing his throat but avoiding eye contact. "I know it's a little late, but Aiden's leaving today, and I promised to stop by."