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“Why don’t we get rid of the formalities and discuss what it is you called me here for?” Sheriff places his hands on the table, attempting to look like he’s the one in control of the situation, but the little smile that tips up Bree’s lips makes it clear who is in charge. He’s walking into her plan perfectly.

“I’m sure we can do that. As you are aware, we have Mortimer Whitlock in our custody. He claims to work with you and The Aristocracy. He would like to barter for his release, and he’s named you as his contact person,” Bree explains, and The Sheriff's eyes narrow with each word she speaks.

His nose wrinkles, like he’s just sniffed a steaming pile of shit. “Allegedly,” he sneers, before turning silent.

Bree waits for him to elaborate, but when he doesn’t, she asks, “What?”

“Whitlock stating that I work with him, and that we are both linked to The Aristocracy is nothing more than an accusation. I am confirming nothing. However, if we were with The Aristocracy, I’m sure they would tell you the same thing I’m telling you now. We do not care what you do with him. As far as we are concerned, you can kill him and get it over with. We will not negotiate.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, a red mist descends around me, and without even thinking it through, I can feel myself moving to the door. This meeting is going to hell in a handbasket, and I sure as fuck am not letting this asshole leave without getting answers.

Before I can even get close, Kian and Liam grab my arms, as Shane and Finn run in front of the door, blocking my path.

“Don’t, Ev. Trust Bree, she will sort this, but you have to calm down, bro,” Liam growls into my ear as he tries to pull me back towards the window.

I ball my hands into fists and try to calm my breathing. “Get the fuck off me,” I growl. Kian lets go, but Liam keeps a firm hand on me, while Shane and Finn continue to stand in front of the door.

“Calm down or I will remove you,” Liam snaps, his green eyes that match mine almost perfectly, glare at me.

I jerk my shoulders roughly until he lets me go, and we return our attention to the other room.

“I thought we were cutting the bullshit?” Bree replies, causing The Sheriff’s eyes to widen, clearly startled by her blunt response. Kian chuckles while Liam puffs his chest out with pride.

“Okay, in which case, if I am working with The Aristocracy—hypothetically speaking—why would I want to work with you? It’s well known you’re making a play for power, calling for an end to the very trade we make our fortune in,” he replies, dropping all the airs and graces he’d been talking with before. Now his cockney accent rings loud.

“I honestly don’t give a shit if you want to work with me or not. Whitlock wants to negotiate for his life, and normally, I wouldn’t even entertain such a thing, but he has something that I want,” Bree states, remaining just as calm as she always is.

I hold my breath at the vague mention of Tee, even though it’s only a passing statement. This is the part of the discussion we’ve hashed out as a family numerous times. The mere fact we’re willing to even consider giving up Whitlock in exchange for Teigan shows she’s worth something to us.

It’s well known by now how much we want to end Whitlock, so only something of true value would be used to negotiate.

The problem is, if we let The Sheriff know just how much value Teigan has, it may potentially put a target on her back that she doesn’t have now, putting her in even more danger.

Which is something I’m absolutely fucking not willing to do, and Bree is with me on this. We need to make it known we want her, but not give off her true value unless absolutely necessary.

“Ah, yes…the girl. And why would Whitlock’s whore be of such value to you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing on Bree as he tries to read her reactions.

She waves her hand dismissively. “That’s really none of your business, but in the interest of getting this sorted today, I will tell you. She is an old family friend. Her debt originally belonged to Desmond, my father-in-law, but when he died, Whitlock took her. He shouldn’t have. Her debt remains with the Doughty family, therefore, she’s our property. We want her back.”

He shakes his head, not at all believing what Bree’s saying. “You expect me to believe you intend to let a man like Whitlock go free, all because a childhood friend owes you a debt, and you’d like her back?”

“I don’t really give a shit what you believe, but that is the truth. I’m sure you’re aware that our grudge with Whitlock will remain, and though we are agreeing to let him go now, we make no promises not to hunt him down in the future.”

“Why the hell would I let the bitch go, only for you to kill Whitlock, anyway?” As soon as the word bitch leaves his lips, both Liam and Finn have their arms on me, like they expect me to barrel through the window to get at him.

I have to confess, the red mist of my fury is tainting the edges of my vision, but I keep balling my hands in and out of fists as I control my breathing.

“I’m fine,” I grunt, jerking my shoulders again until they let go of me.

“Why wouldn’t you let her go?” Bree counters, leaning further forward across the table, like she’s trying to analyse his every movement. “You agreed to this meeting, knowing full well what my terms were.”

“I did. But…” he pauses, his neck bobbing as he gulps nervously. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Bree sounds so menacing with each word she spits with a hard stare. The guy actually leans back in his chair to get even just the slightest bit more space between them.

“Hypothetically, remember?—”

“Yes, yes. It’s all fucking hypothetical. Get on with it,” Bree snaps, interrupting The Sheriff before he can finish his sentence.