Page 203 of Corrupted By You

I picked up after the third ring and brought it to my ear, not saying a word.

An amused voice harboring the quality of a man who thought he’d beat his opponent said, “I wondered when you’d figure it out.”

My moment of silence was me mourning the loss of my little brother.

He just sealed his fate.

From this second onwards, his breaths were numbered.

“You’ve always been so clever. It must hurt your ego to know I got one over you,” he continued conversationally as though we were discussing hockey stats. “Zeno Gianni De la Croix, King of Montardor’s underworld, defeated by a merepawn.”

If he thought this was defeat, then he didn’t know me that well.

“Did you like that little touch at the auction?” he mused. “A bit over-the-top, but I’ve always had a flair for the dramatics.”

“How did you find the folder?”

“I always knew you had a safe hidden behind that hideous painting and cracking the combo was fairly easy.” He chuckled. “Your wedding anniversary? Really, Zed? You’re predictable. You should have burned the folder if you didn’t want it to fall in the wrong hands.”

I ground my teeth. “Why did you do it, Ben?”

I knew why. Still, I wanted to hear it from him.

“Why don’t you come meet me down at the stables and I’ll give you all the answers you want,monfrère.”

I smirked without humour. “Benjamin?”

“Yes?” His insouciant tone grated the last of my nerves.

“I’m going to kill you before the night is over.”

I ended the call and cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders.

With a gun and knife in my possession, I stormed out of my office.

The stables used to be a place of refuge for both of us growing up.

We would come here to decompress and hang out after a long week. It was rather ironic that Benjamin wished to meet here for our final confrontation.

When I entered through the ajar doors, the stalls were empty of horses and the place was filled with glacial temperature.

My little brother stood with his back to me, gazing at the old gunshot hole punctured in a wooden wall.

Sixteen years ago, a fourteen-year-old Benjamin came to find me in the stables after his formal initiation into the family business. I was tending to one of our mares with my dog Charlie curled by my feet.

High on life and invincibility, Benjamin showed me his gun, a customary gift to honour the men who’d officially been inducted into the De la Croix crime family. It was a grueling ceremony where you shot dead a traitor and carved a cross into his chest. A test for the older generation to see how you performed under pressure and if you were worthy of carrying the De la Croix name.

My little brother’s future was bright. Yves had plans of turning him into one of hiscapitainesto oversee the De la Croix soldiers.

Benjamin’s excitement was a given now that he was part of the big boys’ club. I had congratulated him and even ribbed him in a brotherly fashion.

Until he decided to channel his invincibility and act cool by practicing his aim.

I twisted his wrist in time, changing the trajectory of his gunshot.

Otherwise, Charlie would be dead and me potentially wounded.

Rather than soaking in the magnitude of the accident, Benjamin laughed. He laughed like a goddamn lunatic with no remorse for his actions while I heaved in shock.