The PowWow

The Mercedes came back to a company called Neph Lim Industries.

Subtle.

I called Rachel first.

“No warrant,” she said.

“Good morning to you too.”

“You can’t positively identify the man in the video,” she said. “You have a partial plate, a make, and a leased vehicle tied to a company. That’s not enough.”

“It’s enough to visit.”

A pause.

“Levi.” She said, with a tone of enforcement.

“I heard you. No warrant.”

“That also means no heroics.” She added.

I glanced at Jacob, who was already standing by the door, barefoot, calm, and built like a theological argument.

“Define heroics.”

Rachel sighed.

Yeah. I was growing on her.

Probably.

Neph Lim Industries sat in a sleek glass building on the north side, all mirrored panels and polished stone, the kind of place that tried very hard to look like money without admitting it worshiped money.

Jacob looked up at the sign.

NEPH LIM INDUSTRIES

His face didn’t change.

“Seriously?” I said. “That’s either arrogance or the universe mocking us.”

“Both are possible,” Jacob rumbled.

Inside, the lobby smelled like money, leather, and cold air. A receptionist with perfect posture asked who we were. I gave our names.

She didn’t ask why we were there. That bothered me. She just made a checkmark, as if we’d arrived for an appointment.

A moment later, a tall man stepped out from The bank of elevators.

Nathanial Lim.

I knew it before he said his name.

He was enormous, Jacob enormous, carbon copies of a body type. Tall, broad, tailored in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my Highlander. His hair was dark, combed neatly back. His smile was warm.

Too warm.

And his feet were bare.

“Levi and Jacob,” he said. “I wondered when you would arrive.”

I felt Jacob go still beside me.

“Did you?” I asked.

Nathanial’s smile widened. “Of course. Men like us don’t remain hidden from one another for long.”

I didn’t like the us. Not one bit.

He gave us a tour.

Or what passed for one. Glass corridors. Conference rooms. Labs behind frosted doors. Employees who looked busy enough to be convincing and nervous enough to be interesting.

“So what does Neph Lim actually do?” I asked.

Nathanial spread his hands. “Human optimization. Materials research. Applied kinetics. Bio-resonance.”

“That’s a lot of words for ‘none of your business.’”

He laughed. I hated that too. My list of dislikes for Nathanial was growing exponentially, way beyond psychotic killer and kidnapper, which was already too big a list.

Jacob said nothing. Nathanial noticed. He seemed to observe and file things away. Of course he did.

“You understand restraint,” Nathanial said to Jacob.

Jacob’s eyes stayed forward. “Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

Jacob looked at him then. “Enough.”

Nathanial smiled like he’d been given a gift.

We reached his office last. Large, clean, expensive. Too clean. On one shelf sat a small black device, no bigger than a deck of cards, with a recessed switch and a faint copper ring around one edge.

I looked at it once, then away, then back again. I tried to not be obvious and I think I pulled it off.

Nathanial saw me see it. He didn’t move to hide it. So much for my attempt at subtlety. But, Nathanial didn’t even seem to care that I saw it.

He was pride, standing in the room wearing a suit.

“Interesting gadget,” I said.

“Prototype,” Nathanial replied.

“For what?”

“Temporary disruption.”

“Of?”

His smile stayed easy.

“Interference.”

Cute.

I wanted to punch him. Jacob probably wanted to pray for him.

That was why people liked Jacob better.

Nathanial turned toward Jacob.

“You go barefoot,” he said.

“So do you,” Jacob replied.

“I draw strength from the earth.”

I blinked. “That’s a sentence people say now?”

Nathanial ignored me.

Jacob’s jaw tensed at my remark. I think I was stressing him.

Nathanial stepped closer. “You feel it too, don’t you? The weight beneath you. The old strength. The inheritance.”

Jacob’s voice dropped. “My strength comes from the Lord.”

Nathanial smiled. “That is what small people say. You don’t look small.”

I saw it fully then. Nathanial, the apex predator. The Alpha, and probably believed he was the Omega too. If he was any more full of himself, his suit might rip.

The room changed, not physically, but much more spiritual. Something shifted.

Jacob’s hands relaxed at his sides. That was not good.

Nathanial broke the sudden silence with an expansive gesture toward the hallway. “We have a gym downstairs. Combat room. Open mat. No weapons. No tricks.”

I stepped between them a little. “No.”

Jacob looked at me.

I looked right back. “No. Absolutely not. We came to ask questions, not audition for Barefoot Fight Club.”

Nathanial chuckled.

Jacob said, “Faith.”

I stared at him. “Do not quote me my own brother back at me.”

“You said Asa did not have Rachel Stryker.”

“That was a joke.”

“You seek evidence your way,” Jacob said. “Let me seek it mine.”

I hated that, mostly because it sounded reasonable.

Nathanial watched us, delighted. That decided it. I should have dragged Jacob out by the arm. Instead, we went downstairs.

Because apparently I was an idiot.

The gym was large, open, and spotless. Mats covered the floor. Heavy bags hung along one wall. Mirrors lined another. No employees. No witnesses.

Of course.

Nathanial removed his jacket and folded it neatly. Jacob did the same with his overshirt.

Side by side, barefoot on the mat, they looked like two answers to the same question, but honestly the answer was the same. The only difference was carriage.

Nathanial smiled. Jacob didn’t.

They touched hands once, all grace and playing by the rules. He was showing himself as magnanimous and structured. I saw pride, naked and raw.

Then Nathanial moved.

Fast.

Not faster than Jacob though. That was the problem.

As they closed, I saw something I didn’t like. Not dominance.

Equality.

They struck, blocked, shifted, and reset with terrifying precision. No wasted movement. No big cinematic swings. Just speed, strength, and calculation. The impacts sounded wrong.

Heavy and dense, like meat hitting stone.

Jacob drove Nathanial back three steps with a shoulder check that would have folded most men in half. Nathanial absorbed it, turned with it, and came back smiling.

Jacob swept low. Nathanial jumped it easily clearing the attack, but not a hair’s breadth more. Precision.

Nathanial struck for the ribs. Jacob turned just enough and took the blow with a grunt.

I saw it all. My mind caught angles, timing, weight distribution, the tiny half-second choices before they became movement.

Nathanial was testing him and Jacob knew it.

Then Nathanial stopped testing. He changed rhythm.

A fraction.

But enough. I saw it and I knew trouble had arrived.

Jacob moved to counter what should have come next. Nathanial didn’t throw it.

He dropped his weight, hooked Jacob’s leg, and drove upward with both hands.

Jacob hit the mat hard enough that I felt it in my teeth. I think the building trembled.

He rolled instantly, on his feet faster than thought, but Nathanial was already there.

Two strikes. One to the shoulder. One to the sternum.

Jacob blocked the third, surged upward, and for one glorious second I thought he had him.

Then Nathanial stepped inside Jacob’s reach like he’d been waiting his whole life to prove he could.

He caught Jacob’s wrist, turned under it, and used Jacob’s own momentum to send him down again.

This time, Nathanial followed with a knee across Jacob’s arm and a forearm across his throat.

Not choking. Pinning. Dominating.

Jacob strained and Nathanial held effortlessly.

And then—Jacob stopped.

The room went silent except for my heartbeat. Nathanial leaned close enough that only Jacob could hear whatever he said. But I saw Jacob’s face.

Not pain or fear, but something far worse.

Doubt.

Nathanial released him and stood smoothly, barely breathing hard. Jacob remained on the mat one second too long.

That one second scared me more than the fight.

Nathanial offered him a hand. Jacob took it.

Of course he did.

Nathanial pulled him up. “You are strong.”

Jacob said nothing.

Nathanial smiled. “But you are divided.”

I stepped forward. “That’s enough.”

He turned that smile on me. His eyes passed over me, dismissive. “And you, are insignificant.”

Nathanial led us back upstairs himself, jacket on, smile in place, confidence untouched.

At the front doors, he clasped his hands behind his back. “I hope you find Detective Reddings.”

I stopped. Jacob stopped too. Nathanial’s smile didn’t change.

“She is, after all, the reason you came.”

I met his eyes. “We’ll be seeing you again.”

“I imagine so.” He looked at Jacob. “I look forward to it.”

Jacob didn’t answer.

We stepped outside into the sunlight. For a few seconds neither of us spoke.

Then I looked at my brother. He was staring down at his bare feet.

“Jacob.”

“I lost.”

No rumble, no weight, but just quiet words.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

His jaw tightened. “Fairly.”

That was the part that mattered.

I looked back at the glass building. Nathanial stood inside, visible through the doors, smiling like a man who had never doubted the outcome. My hands curled into fists.

“Well,” I said, forcing my voice steady, “good news.”

Jacob looked at me.

“I’m definitely not putting him on the Christmas card list.”

Nothing, not a twitch, or even an almost-smile. That scared me more than anything.

We walked back to the Highlander.

Behind us, Neph Lim Industries gleamed in the sun like a polished lie.