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“Who’s he working for, Alfred?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, and you can’t threaten it out of me. You see, I have Sophia.” He points his finger at me, swirling it in a circle playfully. “And I know your secret, Flower Girl.”

“Why are we even here?” Noah demands.

“I thought about killing you—you know, get you out of the way.” He gives us an affectionate smile, his eyes going all soft. “But I don’t know. We’re having such fun, aren’t we? I just love you guys.”

Then he sighs, tipping his head back and staring at the night sky. “The sun feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“Whatdid you give him?” I hiss at Cassian, keeping my voice low.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers back.

“Why do you guys keep saying that?”

“Technically, I could arrest you,” Noah says to Alfred. “You’ve admitted to being an accomplice in Sophia’s disappearance.”

“No good.” He grins. “It’s impossible to keep me in jail—my father would just give me a house pardon, and I’d be on my way.”

“I could probably convince him to leave you in there for a couple of decades,” Cassian says wryly.

“You’re such a killjoy.” Alfred suddenly sits up like he just had an epiphany. “You know, that’s probably why people don’t want you on the throne. If you’d loosen up a bit, I bet you wouldn’t have so many enemies.”

“I have enough friends.”

“Say, I heard you’re looking to go into real estate. How would you feel about investing in a South Beach hotel with me? To be honest, I’m a little strapped.” He lowers his voice yet again. “Did I tell you how much this yacht cost? One hundred?—”

“Twenty million,” Cassian says patiently. “You mentioned it.”

“What do you think? Beachfront property. You in?”

“I’m only in the market to buy a flower farm.”

“I could probably find you one of those. Come to think of it, I know a guy in Colorado. Ethan’s brother. Do you know Ethan? Oh, of course you do. Of course.” He suddenly becomes serious. “Did you hear he’s dead?”

“Yes,” Cassian answers, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s amused or about to toss the annoying man overboard. “Let’s talk about Gerald.”

Alfred sits back in his chair. “I told you, I can’t tell you who he’s working with.”

“That’s fine. Tell me why he became a mercenary.”

Alfred chuckles. “He’d probably like that. Mercenary. Blade for hire. Sellsword. It’s edgy, it’s cool.”

“Focus, Alfred,” Noah snaps.

“Okay, you want the gossip?” He suddenly stands, sloshing his martini. “We’re all friends here. I can share a little. Let’s go back about twenty years, okay? Early 2000s. Y2K. Boybands—you feel it?”

“Too well,” Cassian says dryly. “Continue.”

“Gerald was working for NIHA in one of their London labs as a researcher. Scientist. Biologist. Pathologist. Virologist—all the things that end in “ist.” He had nothing but time, and he spent it all on degrees. Drove me mad—we’re friends, you know. I’m out partying, and he’s studying for finals.

“Anyway, he moved into a flat in London—a nice place. But at least a few times a week, he’d hear his neighbors arguing in the next flat over. One day, the fight got too heated for him to ignore. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He thought about calling the police, but he was worried it would take too long. So, he broke down the door.”

“I’ve heard vampires are prone to that sort of behavior.” I sneak a peek at Noah, who just rolls his eyes.

“It was a good thing, too,” Alfred continues. “He got there just in time. The woman’s arm was already broken, and the guy was standing over her with—you okay, Flower Girl?”

“We get the point,” Cassian says sharply. “Are you going somewhere with this?”