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“We sit down with Theris Inc.’s CEO, Caden Danvers, next week to begin preliminary negotiations,” Dad exclaims, and it’s the first time in months I’ve heard that spark in his voice.

My fists clench at my side when I think of how we basically lost it all because of the Pierce family. They seem to be the common denominator in too much shit.

“What’s on the table?” Mason inquires, glancing at me briefly before returning his attention to the conversation.

“Based on the most recent call—everything. Emma, Caden’s assistant, explained that they’d develop a business plan to diversify our portfolio, allowing us to gain the capital necessary to buy back Fort Mose.”

Mason’s gaze lands on me, speaking the unspoken thoughts.

We need to look into this.

Anything this good comes with strings, I’m sure. “Hey, Dad, it’s good to hear your voice,” I say before asking my question. “What made them come around? When we first reached out, we were met with radio silence.”

My inquiry is met with silence. The only thing I can hear is the smooth sounds of our breathing.

Leaning forward, I prepare to ask if he’s still on the phone, but before the words can tumble out of my mouth, my father replies, “Here’s the thing.”

I groan, instantly not liking where this is going.

Bracing myself, I wait for the clusterfuck coming our way. There are always strings attached to deals like this—ones that have unreasonably high repercussions.

“This meeting is our only option, and short of harming my family, I’m more than willing to agree to specific terms.”

“What are the terms, Dad?” Mason probes, his ears blooming red from the anger scorching him from the inside out.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I prepare to hear him confess something along the lines of the blood of your firstborn, or kill someone. The latter makes my pulse thump. It’s been a very long time since we went on a hunt.

Mason elbows me. “You asked the question. Stop daydreaming and listen to the answer.”

I flip him off, making a mental note to swap out the sugar with salt or glue in his bodywash shit.The fucker could’ve tapped me on the shoulder.

Dad clears his throat, stopping the endless ways I plan to get my brother back. “The only requirement was that we never, and we meannever,ask or try to figure out who requested them to work with Fort Mose.”

He can’t just dangle that before me. First rule—nevertell me I can’t do something. It’s the quickest way for me to prove you wrong.

“I mean, Liam. You will not, under any circumstances, investigate who this person could be,” my dad commands.

I peer at Mason out of the corner of my eye, only to find him already looking at me.

We both nod, an unspoken conversation solidifying our plan. “We won’t,” Mason and I agree in unison.

“Good. I don’t want to have to make a trip to Texas,” he warns. “Now I’m going to take your mother and grandmother to lunch.”

After finishing our goodbyes, Mason hangs up the phone, double-checking to ensure the call has ended. “Whose path do we need to drop this breadcrumb on?” he asks as he stands, striding towards the window. Worry is etched in the tight set of his shoulders.

This is the best news we’ve had in months, but the price may be too steep. “It needs to be someone with a vested interest in anything related to the Pierces,” I state. “They have to want blood like we do.”

Mason slowly turns, our eyes lock as the answer seems to hit us simultaneously.

“The Jacobis,” we shout at the same time.

Hopping up, I grab my jacket and head for the door before I speak. “I’ll meet with Coop. We have enough time before the show tonight.”

“Wait,” Mason blurts. “Do you have your gear?”

Shit.

“Good looking out,” I say, then beeline for my room. I grab my red tie, garment bag with my suit, shoes, and red and white striped cane. Tonight is about to be lit, so I need to be as dapper and crisp as possible. Items in hand, I stroll past my dresser and grab my Dopp kit before exiting my room.