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They’re fucking petrified, but only because they know they’re going to die. And no matter what they believe in, they know damn well there isn’t any chance they’ll be led to those pearly gates.

“Whatever you think I—”

“Don’t insult me further by questioning my knowledge,” I cut in, my voice deadly calm. “You know better than that, Maximilian.”

His lips tighten into a white line, but he has enough sense to turn and make his way down the steps, straightening out his rumpled blazer to reestablish his fragile façade of confidence. He’s struggling to maintain a calm expression, with his fists clenched and shaking, and sweat lining his hairline.

He pauses at the last step, standing before me with his nose in the air. He wants to die with his head held high.

How naïve.

He will bow at my feet, begging for forgiveness and lips pressed so far into my boots that his teeth leave imprints behind.

“Where is she?” I ask, my voice cold and devoid of emotion.

He stares at me, his throat bobbing as he works to swallow. “I wasn’t told the location.”

“But you’re in contact with the men who have her,” I counter. He blinks, licking his lips to stall while he finds the proper response.

“It’s been fulfilled. I transferred Rick's percentage, and we cut ties.”

Max transferred money to one account, so I figure only Rick Boreman got a cut, though I'm not entirely sure why yet. On the surveillance cam of Addie's car crash, there were two men, and Rick was not the one to drag her out of her overturned vehicle.

I purse my lips, the scars on my face crinkling, nod my head, and walk toward him slowly, like a cheetah stalking its prey. A trickle of satisfaction drips into my bloodstream when he tenses, solidifying beneath my eyes.

“And you’re telling me that you have no way to contact either of them?”

He swallows and shakes his head. “Rick disconnected his phone after the transfer went through. Probably to hide from you.”

I hum, dragging my eyes up and down his form, noting the awkward stance and the way his feet are angled inward. He’s seconds away from pissing himself.

There’s no self-assurance of being in a public place, knowing the worst of your sins were intimidating a couple of women in a restaurant.

He’s been a very bad boy this time.

“So, why’d you do it, Max?”

“You killed my father, so the deal was off,” he spits, fury flashing in his irises. Stilling, I can only stare at him as I process his words.

After I killed Archie Talaverra, I cut off his hands and set them on Addie’s doorstep as a reminder that she’s mine, and no one else is ever to touch her. Max found out and started placing blame on her for Archie’s death, so I made him a deal. I wouldn’t kill his father, and he wouldn’t touch Addie. It took kidnapping and recording a video to drive home the point, but he kept to his word. Until recently.

Funny thing is, I never killed his father.

“Excuse me?”

He blinks, his face gradually turning red.

“You kill—”

“I heard what you fucking said,” I bark. “What made you think it was me?”

His face contorts. “Because you fucking said it was,” he bellows, taking a threatening step towards me. I do better and lunge in his face, causing him to recoil and lose his footing.

I catch him by the collar of his shirt and jerk him close. “Explain, Max,” I snarl. “Because I didn’t fucking kill your father. If I had, I would've killed both of you. We made a fucking deal, and I kept my word.”

He shakes his head, breathing fire. “You sent me the video of you decapitating my father on Friday. On the video, you said, ‘This is for Adeline Reilly.’”

Fire fills my veins, every single one in my body protruding.