Page 31

Thirty

Sebastian

I kill the engine. I parked a couple of streets down from the address Harrison gave me, but I doubt I’ll keep the element of surprise. He’s probably got guys watching for my car. Or drones, or God knows what else.

I’m way out of my depth.

I’d be out of my depth if Harrison were some two-bit criminal, and he’s a long, long way from that. The Calders are sophisticated. They’ve been a thorn in the Brotherhood’s side for years. Why, exactly, do I think I can do this?

It’s a good question, but it doesn’t stop me getting out of my car, hand wrapped around my gun. Harrison Calder kicked the shit out of me once for accusing Ophelia. How funny he must have found that moment, smashing his fist into my face, all the while knowing what he did. He felt nothing. No remorse. No shame.

I should do the sensible thing and let this play out the way I originally planned. I should be coming to this moment with the full strength of the Brotherhood behind me, not alone with a gun I've only fired at a range. I’ve always wondered whether I’d be able to shoot a person, but now my mind is settled on that point.

If that person is Harrison, the answer is yes.

The house is a run-down, cottage-style property on a big patch of overgrown garden. This rough little village mostly houses seasonal farm workers, and it shows in the condition of the properties. This one is in worse shape than most, though, and feels abandoned.

A man in a checkered shirt walks past, cap pulled low, but only spares me a single sharp glance. Did he see the gun? Will he call the cops? I doubt it. This seems like the kind of place where people mind their own business.

Do I burst in the front door? Creep around the back? The night we saved Eve from her asshole ex, Jacob kicked down the door and went in like a raging bull, but that was two idiots who thought they were safe. Not a crime mogul on high alert.

I push my hair back from my clammy forehead, and my blood pounds. If I survive this, Jacob will kill me himself, but at least he’ll make it quick.

The front door is a bad idea. From my brief drive-by, the house has a big back veranda and what I think is a side door. Maybe the overgrown bushes in the back will give me some cover. I edge toward the—

“Drop it.”

Fuck.

Where the hell did he come from? Metal presses against the back of my neck. A hand decorated with spider tattoos grips my arm. “I’ve got orders to kill you if you don’t.”

Fight or comply? Dice roll, lightning fast, calculating the odds. Will he really shoot? Are there others here?

Yes and yes .

I drop the gun. Harrison won’t want to look like a coward in front of his men—maybe I can goad him into a fight. Then what? Nothing good. Nothing fucking good.

I’m an idiot.

“Move it.”

The man urges me forward. I shrug off his hand and walk toward the house. “No need for that. I’m here to talk to your boss.”

He grips my arm tighter and bangs the gun into the back of my skull, a sharp tap. “You’ll do what you’re fucking told.”

A flash of white-hot rage sears me, but I keep it in check. Save it for Harrison. Don’t get shot on his doorstep and tossed into some river before I get a chance to turn his stupid face into mush.

I hate this. Hate the loss of control, the sense of being dragged along on someone else’s string.

Imagine how Ophelia feels.

No. Don’t go there. I don’t need my head clouded any more than it already is.

The door opens as we reach it, confirming my guess that other guys were waiting to jump in if I made trouble. It creaks, and a musty smell drifts out. A damp, moldy reek. Definitely abandoned. Peeling wallpaper in ugly 1970s cream and brown lines the entryway, and nicotine stains add to the depressing appearance.

My feet crunch on the carpet. I don’t want to know what I’m stepping in.

Spider tat guy and another man built like a linebacker usher me into a dingy living room. It holds some rotten soft furniture, a few random chairs, and a filthy stained old mattress. There's a pile of beer and liquor bottles in the corner and graffiti on the walls. A spot for teenagers to get wasted .

Harrison Calder sits on one of the chairs, in a pose that's trying too hard to look relaxed. I'm pushed toward him but don't need the encouragement. I want to look him in the eyes. I stare down at him, gun still pressed to the back of my head.

“One wrong move,” spider tat hisses.

“Relax. Harrison assured me we'd settle this like men. He's not going to go back on his promise. Are you?”

I raise a brow at Harrison. He looks even worse in the flesh than he did over the phone. Soft and paunchy, sweaty face, and pallid skin. I study him up and down. “My God. Weren't you a track star? What happened?”

He studies me lazily. “You’ve changed too, Sebastian. Where did the grungy eco-warrior go? High school was a long time ago.”

His voice hasn’t changed. Still the same braying, superior tone that used to make me cringe in the cafeteria. My dad always urged me to befriend Harrison and hated that I refused. Did he know Harrison was the one who got Maggie pregnant? Did he even care?

I make a show of checking my watch, and Harrson’s greedy little eyes lock on to it. He knows how much it’s worth. I’m sure he’ll enjoy taking it from my dead body and wearing it like a trophy. “Can we get on with this? I left Ophelia chained up in her little pet bed, fast asleep. I wore her out. I’d hate for her to wake up alone.”

He smirks. “You think you can hurt me with that shit? A sister for a sister? Let me tell you a secret.” He drops his voice to a stage whisper. “ I don’t give a fuck. She’s soiled goods. Your Brotherhood can keep her. Pass her on to whoever they want once you’re dead.”

I must have failed to mask my shock, as his smirk grows nastier. “We’d planned to marry her off to an important associate. I spent months on the deal, but he got wind of what’s happened. He doesn’t want her now—who would?—and neither will any other real man. She’s worthless.”

Worthless. Ophelia’s sad words from the previous night come back to haunt me. I was nowhere near smart enough. My dad said it wasn’t worth it. All these years, I thought Ophelia was a pampered princess, the precious jewel of her family. Loved.

The truth makes me sick.

Harrison lets out his horrible, braying laugh. I’m a world-class poker player, for fuck’s sake. I need to guard my feelings better.

“Oh. Oh my God, this is pathetic. You actually feel something for her, don’t you? You’re such a useless simp. Take a woman captive and fall for her? Who do you think will get her after you’re dead?”

If I die, she’ll be free, but Harrison doesn’t need to know that. I hate the thought of her back in his clutches almost as much as I hate imagining who Kendrick would pair her with if they kept her. No one would want her, given the trouble she’s caused.

God, what have I done?

Get it the fuck together. Poker face. Make him believe what I want. He needs to see me as a cold, sadistic bastard. An asshole just like him.

I sharpen my gaze and let a lazy smile spread across my face. “Oh, I feel something, all right. You have no idea what a good fuck she is. Seriously, man. It’s like she’s been starving for years and I’m the first man to let her eat. If I die, I pity whatever old bastard she gets passed to. They’ll be dead in a month from exhaustion.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure. She’s a frigid bitch, and we both know it. But forget about her. Let’s talk about you. Who the fuck do you think you are to steal from my family? ”

“Your family are low-life pieces of shit.” I keep my voice calm and mocking, and it riles him in a way nothing I’ve said about Ophelia managed to. He puffs out his chest, and his cheeks redden.

“You can talk. Your dad would eat my dad’s shit if he’d told him to. He swept what happened to Maggie under the rug, all to keep the peace.”

My dad’s bigger than your dad.

The pathetic schoolyard nature of the conversation scrapes nails across my brain. I left this world and found a better one. But I couldn’t keep away.

“I’ve disowned my father. You’re right, he’s a pathetic lickspittle. I stepped out of his shadow a long time ago. You should try it.”

Another blow. Pretty soon, he’s going to order me shot or start throwing punches. I need him pissed enough to use his fists. I try for one last jab. “Do you really just want to sit here chatting? Even your sister put up a bit of a fight. At first. But I suppose, given the state of you, you’re too scared.”

I have absolutely no idea if I can actually beat Harrison in a fist fight. Hapkido is all about disabling your opponent, and I want to smash his stupid fat face into oblivion.

He jumps to his feet, chair flying out behind him, and adrenaline surges through me. We’re doing it. It’s happening. I tense, ready to fight, until Harrison says, “Hold him.”

Two of his goons grab my arms and wrench them behind my back. I struggle and twist but can’t get free, and spider guy smacks my head with the gun hard enough to make me stagger. “Keep that up, and I shoot out a kneecap.”

Shit. My head rings, and I don’t see Harrison winding back for a punch until it smashes into my cheek. The pain rips into me, and through blurred eyes, I see Harrison shaking his fist as though he hurt it on my face. A big gold ring sits on his middle finger, and it’s sliced me. He pulls back for another blow. Another. Another.

My face. My ribs. My gut. Everything hurts. The metallic tang of blood fills my mouth. One eye won’t open any more. Every time I breathe, it’s like I’m being stabbed.

From my one good eye, I see Harrison wipe sweat from his brow. My words come out mushy through swollen lips. “Most exercise you’ve had in a while?”

He snorts. “Such a smart mouth. Did you really think you’d walk out of here alive? I didn’t get where I am by fighting fair, Sebastian. Aren’t you a genius? Didn’t you know that?”

He leans in close enough for me to smell his sour sweat.

“The first time I fucked your sister, she cried because it hurt. I told her that’s how it always feels the first time. Dumb bitch believed me and came back for more. The first time I fucked her ass, she cried again. Your parents really did a number on that girl’s self-esteem. I spat in her mouth once, and she didn’t even complain.”

I spit all the blood gathered in my mouth into his face. He steps back, swiping it off with his shirt sleeve. The sweat stains under his armpits make me want to retch. This man, this piece of human garbage, destroyed Maggie. And instead of playing the smart game I should have to get revenge, I handed myself to him on a silver fucking platter.

The pain is sapping my energy, and my knees want to buckle, but I make myself keep upright. I won’t go to my knees in front of this asshole. I’ll die first.

It takes everything I have not to flinch, though, when Harrison holds up a knife. It has a thin blade, and a stylized handle covered with skulls. He positions it in front of my good eye, pointed tip right in the center. “I think we’ve fucked around enough here. I want you to cry, just like your slutty little sister did.”