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Story: Princes of Ash

“Well, this is an unexpected—” He grunts in surprise when I slip in, pushing past him.

“I need some eyes in West End,” I say, making a beeline for the room in the back. Charlie releases baffled sputters as he follows behind me, his socked feet slapping against the floor.

“Eyes in West End? Shouldn’t I be asking you for that?”

Stepping into Charlie’s tech room, I grimace at the smell of armpit and microwave food, before glancing around at the monitors. A cycling feed of the golden row is up on the main display, which doesn’t come as a surprise. The others show various views of businesses around Forsyth. It’s nothing I don’t already have access to.

“Cut the shit,” I say, turning to level him with a look. “I’ve seen the alley’s security event feed, so I know you’re working with Nick Bruin.”

“Wh-what?” Charlie gives an impersonation of innocence that doesn't even approach convincing. He doesn’t even stop chewing his burrito. “I’m not—I’dnever—”

Pressed for time, I stress, “Yes, you would, and if I actually gave a flying fuck about you trading intel for pictures of his abs,” Charlie’s mouth snaps closed, “then your ass would currently be occupying the Barons’ crypt. Lucky for you, the Princes have an interest in cultivating your—” I sneer, “—connections.”

After a long, tense beat, Charlie chuckles, dropping into a leather desk chair. “That’s overstating it a bit. He was looking for something that didn’t have anything to do with East End. Something about the Lucia chick’s sister. I figured, what’s the harm in a little spank bank material?”

I caught it on archive footage I’ve been going through since the tournament. This same dark alley on a night a few months back, days before my release from prison. If I’d been here, I would have caught it in real-time, Nick Bruin and his Duchess waltzing right up to Bastion Security and snagging some footage from a local pharmacy.

Luckily for everyone involved, Iwasn’there.

I would have shut that shit down instantly.

“First of all, that’s not your decision to make. Second of all,” my eye twitches as Charlie turns his back to me, wolfing down the last of the burrito, “I don’t have time for your pussy pretense. Bruin’s also contracted you for surveillance on the downtown strip recently. You know it, I know it. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

Wiping his hand on his shirt, he speaks around a mouthful of tortilla and beef. “Look, no offense. I think you do great work, Pace. Hell, I probably taught you most of it. But the thing is,” he turns to give me a shrug, “the Dukes are scarier than you.”

I fist my hands in my pockets, jaw tight. “You think so?”

Charlie swivels side to side in his seat, not a care in the world. “Also, that Nick Bruin is a snack. Granted, straighter than dry spaghetti. I’m just trying to boil him a bit. This isn’t some Royal flip I’m doing. Personally, I prefer East End dick.” He stops the swivel, twisting to meet my gaze. “But, you know… the Princes are not without leverage. Your brother—”

“Isn’t a part of this,” I snap. “And the next time you suggest he should be whored out for the benefit of youdoing your job, you’re not going to have one.”

Stupidly, Charlie doesn’t look intimidated, clucking his tongue as he turns back to the screen. “This is about the Princess, I assume?” He shakes his head. “It’s a no-go, anyway. The Dukes have got your walking tribute to a creampie locked down like Fort Knox. She’s a little jewel in their cap, isn’t she? You Royals must be shitting yourselves. They’ve got the Lucia heirandthe Ashby heir in West End. I mean, it’s obviously not about the Sinclaire girl. I’ve seen her around. She’s not even their best gutter slut.” His slimy laugh makes my spine go rigid.

Unblinking, my head tilts. “What did you just say?”

“No, no, I get it, I get it,” Charlie rushes out, grabbing the mouse to navigate through a nest of folders on the monitor. “Big tits, nice hips. Not my thing, obviously, but fuck me, that footage of the Royal Cleansing?” Clicking a file, his eyes roll back dramatically as it brings up the recording.

On the screen, Verity’s dead eyes look ahead as a long ribbon of Tommy Wright’s cum lands on her collarbone.

Charlie groans. “So much premium Forsyth cock in that video, I haven’t jerked off this much inyears. It’s a shame you didn’t gag her, though.” He frowns, leaning back in the chair as he clicks on another timestamp. This one is Rory Livingston, face screwed up as he comes. “All that crying really wilts my dick, so I always have to mute it.“

“Hm.” I take my hands from my pocket.

If Charlie hadn’t put his back to me, he’d probably understand what’s coming. As it is, he barely has time to flinch in confusion when I grab a thick fistful of his hair, shoving the barrel of a gun into the middle of the hand currently resting on the mouse.

A deafening crack resounds when I pull the trigger.

Charlie gasps, snatching his hand back, and for a comical moment, he just stares at the ragged, bleeding hole there, eyes full of wide shock.

Then, he opens his mouth and screams.

I yank his head back before he can bolt away. “Clearly, we’re having a little miscommunication. I’m not your thirteen-year-old intern anymore, Charlie. I’m your boss. I’m your president. I’m motherfucking god as far as you’re concerned, so you’d better start praying.”

“You shot me!” He even looks at me when he says this, grasping his wrist so hard, he’s shaking. Blood gushes down his pasty forearm. “Pace, you shot me!”

“See, this is the worst part about maiming people,” I say, waving the gun menacingly. “They always think they have to tell you about it. Why is that?” Not giving him time to answer, I give his hair another hard yank. “To clarify, I’m not asking you to flip on the Dukes. I’m telling you. Get me a camera in that fucking newspaper building by tomorrow night, or I’ll gut you, balls to throat.”

I shove him forward as I release him, ignoring the agonized sound he’s screeching through gnashed teeth. While he processes this information, I approach the server cabinet, yanking out hard drive after hard drive, until the image of Verity on the blood-spattered screen goes black.

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