Page 170 of Degradation

“You’re late.” Magnus says.

“Bullshit.” I reply. If anything, we’re five minutes early.

Paitlyn tenses more at the sound of his voice and I can see from the way my brother’s eyes sparkle that he enjoys the effect he has on her.

My fingers flex, I’m itching to pull out my gun and put a bullet in his thick fucking skull. I know it’s irrational, but I hate the fact that he of all people can get a response from her.

Paitlyn squeezes my arm, like she understands I’m so close to going on a damn rampage.

“Play nice.” She whispers low enough for only me to hear.

I grunt back. She’s right. The more we drag this out, the more bullshit we’ll have to put up with.

I take another step closer, spotting Antonio lurking off to the side. Sneaky bastard, of course he’d be here. He wants to make sure all of this falls into place, that I do my part and settle this feud.

“You know our demands?” I say to Magnus, ignoring Conrad entirely.

Magnus fixes that gaze on me; one I know so well. One of contempt, one of derision, but also one that underneath shows that he’s not fully in control and he knows it.

“You want a truce?” Magnus snarls. “A fucking truce?”

He moves fast, grabbing hold of Paitlyn, yanking her by her hair. His wife calls out, as if she’s stupid enough to try and admonish him.

But before I can step in and beat the bastard to a pulp, he hisses, falling backwards slightly and Paitlyn slips free from his grip.

“Your fucking whore stabbed me.” He spits, touching his side, where the obvious patch of blood is now appearing on his shirt.

I yank Paitlyn back behind me as she slips that same dagger back securely into her waist. So much for playing nice then.

“She’s not a whore.” I reply. “She’s my wife. And she’s a Founder. That makes her better than you, better than all of us. Touch her again and I’ll gut you.”

“My wife is a Founder too.” Conrad states.

I glance at her, at the woman in the wheelchair. She’s got a strange goofy grin on her face now and she’s rocking the chair back and forth slightly, the way a child might when they’re getting fidgety.

“I see we both married well.” I comment, before fixing my gaze back on Magnus. “Apparently you’re the only one who disappointed in that respect.”

His wife doesn’t react at all to my insult, but he snarls. “My wife is loyal to me. My wife would die for me. Neither of you can say that for a fact.”

“Paitlyn was willing to.” I retort, pointing my finger at him as I lose my temper. “Paitlyn let herself be locked away for what she thought was my sins. And you, you knew she was innocent.”

“This isn’t helping.” Conrad sighs. “You want a truce, then we all need to let the past go.”

“Easy for you to say.” I snap. He’s been free the entire time, he’s been gallivanting about, drinking and fucking, while I was locked up and forgotten about.

“Conrad is right.” Antonio says, stepping between all of us. “None of this is helping.”

“Then what do you suggest?” I sneer.

“You have Titus, if you hand him over to us, then Magnus is willing to be amenable.” The way he says it, the way his voice goes so silky smooth. No wonder Paitlyn saw him as some sort of hero.

“Meaning?” I retort.

“Meaning, I forget your offences, I even let your whore remain with you…” My brother says.

“Call her a whore again, I fucking dare you.” I spit, taking a step forward. Magnus may think he can throw his weight around, but he has nothing on me, and he knows it.

“Magnus.” Antonio mutters almost as an admonishment.