Chapter 3 Dig Deep, Find Him
Briar hung up the phone and stormed inside.
Seeing Martin still standing there, she held out her hand. “Gotta jet. Hand over the car keys.”
Martin was consoling a teary Imani, but Briar’s words made his face sour. “You just got back from overseas. What’s the rush?”
“Dad, why’re you all up in my grill?” Briar snapped.
“I’ve been paying for your—”
“Save it!” Briar cut him off with a smirk. “Paying for me? That was Grandpa’s cash, and you’re still sitting on my dividends. How do you even say that with a straight face?”
Before Martin could argue, Briar snatched the keys from his hand. She started for the door but paused, turning to Imani with a sly grin.
She gave Imani’s cheek a light tap. “Hey, Imani, get my room ready, ‘kay?”
Imani’s lips trembled as she nodded like her life depended on it.
Briar’s smile turned sharp. “Oh, and we’re not kids anymore. While I’m here, let’s skip the sneaky crap you pulled four years ago, yeah?”
“Y-yeah, sure.” Imani stammered, barely holding back tears.
Martin’s glare could’ve set Briar on fire, but she didn’t care. Twirling the keys, she sauntered out.
The door slammed with a thud. Imani’s tears finally spilled over.
“Dad, what’d I do? Why’s she gotta hate me? Same deal four years ago, and now… maybe I should just leave,” Imani sobbed.
“Don’t stress, Imani,” Martin said, sitting beside her. “You’re our daughter. She’s just passing through.”
Imani slumped on the couch, face in her hands, crying. Martin patted her back, trying to calm her.
“That little punk’s eighteen now,” he muttered. “Her grandpa’s will gives her eighteen percent of the company when she’s of age. Bet she’s here for that. Once she gets it, she’s gone.”
Imani looked up, face pale. “Dad… you’re really giving her eighteen percent?”
She still stung from being six, when Briar’s grandpa Jack’s DNA test proved she wasn’t a real Shepherd.
She’d spent years sucking up to the family, only for that Jack to hunt down his true granddaughter.
Imani thought Briar was gone for good—maybe dead. But now she was back, and Jack left all his shares to her.
If this got out, Imani would be Limond City’s biggest laughingstock.
“No way around it,” Martin said, jaw tight. “The will’s locked tight, and she’s got a copy. But don’t worry—she’s clueless about the business. I’ll make sure she ditches her claim.”
Imani exhaled, eyes still wet. “Dad, it’s not about the Shepherd family’s stuff. It’s just… the company’s your and Grandpa’s heart and soul.”
“I get it, Imani,” Martin said firmly. “You’re the real Shepherd. That trainwreck doesn’t deserve squat.”
Imani sniffled, a cunning glint flickering in her eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
*****
Briar’s BMW screeched to a stop outside a private hospital in Limond City.
The place was quiet, not even a sign out front to say it was a hospital.
Briar strode in just as a guy in a white coat came barreling out, nearly knocking her over.
She dodged with a quick step and grabbed his collar, yanking him back like a stray dog.
“Where’s my guy?” she growled.
Atticus Olsen blinked, then flashed a grin. “Damn, Snake, you move fast!”
“Cut the bullshit. Where is he?”
“Gone.” Atticus shrugged, rubbing his nose. “Didn’t know he was your mark, alright?”
Atticus was a looker—gray-blue eyes, flaxen hair, sharp yet soft features that could’ve landed him in a rom-com.
He was the base’s medic, but in a fight, even the cafeteria lady would wipe the floor with him.
In a pit of wolves, he was the ultimate lamb. And his codename—Lamb, nailed it.
Briar’s eyes narrowed, her stare turning straight-up chilling.
Atticus threw up his hands. “Whoa, relax! No patient records here, no cameras. He paid through some sketchy offshore account—can’t trace it.”
“Can’t trace him?” Briar shoved past him. “He had surgery, right? You’ve got blood, tissue, bone scans.”
“Forget his face—half the base is after him. Whatever he showed you wasn’t real.”
With those samples, she could scour global DNA databases. She’d dig him up, even if it meant tearing the earth apart.
Atticus nodded. “On it. I’ll grab the data.”
The DNA results came back fast.
In the office, Briar’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a icy smirk tugging at her lips.
Atticus, leaning nearby, rubbed the goosebumps on his arms.”Hey, Snake, quit with the creepy grin, will ya?
“That dude’s already screwed, and you’re out here plotting with Dum-Dum rounds in a monster sniper rifle? That’s some savage shit. Only you.”
Big rifles like that were for blasting tanks or choppers. The guy surviving? Dumb luck.
Briar whipped around. “How’d you know it was a sniper rifle?”
Atticus didn’t flinch. “C’mon, he was wearing a DR-2 vest—top-notch gear. Only a beast like a high-caliber sniper or a freaking bazooka could shred it. Wait—you’re saying—”
Briar cut the search program, chuckling darkly. “Well, that narrows it down.”
Global DNA databases were a beast to search. Bone scans? No hits.
Most mercs and hitmen were wanted-list pros, switching faces like outfits, their blood and prints useless.
Bone scans were the new go-to, but this guy’s weren’t in the system. Probably not a pro, then.
Atticus swallowed. “Look, he just got cut open. Bet he’s still hobbling around Limond City. We could check locally.”
Briar shot him a side-eye. “What, storm Limond City with a crew and start kicking in doors?”
Atticus went quiet. Yeah, in Cordanland, that was a fantasy.
