Page 69 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)
Devin
W e drag the man into the bunker. Despite the sedatives we gave him, the fucker is still putting up a damned good fight.
Danos and Soren are all ready and waiting for us, and they take the bastard from our hands and toss him into the furthest away cell.
I don’t have any plans of messing with him. As far as I’m concerned, he can sit there and rot until the time comes for him to be a nice little bargaining chip.
The door slam shuts behind him. The rest of the men fill the main room, sinking into chairs, kicking off their protective gear.
“Good night all round,” Soren says, grabbing a beer from the manky fridge in the corner.
“You got the last of them?” I ask. While a few of us played tricks on my brother, the rest were off, finalising Magnus’s shit list. Yeah, it technically does him a favour, but it also twists the blade, increases the pressure he’s under.
Because Magnus can’t be announced Chapter Lord until it is absolutely safe to do so, until everyone on his precious list is eliminated.
His mistake was revealing that fact to me, because I know what it also means; that once that list is done, he and Titus need to have one final ceremony. One final ritual.
And Magnus can’t do that, while Titus is here with me, can he?
My lips curl, seeing again the frustration, the fury my brother showed when he realised I’d beaten him.
Too bad, brother. Too fucking bad. You brought this on yourself the day you had me locked away like a fucking lunatic.
Lyndon walks up to me, his face twisted into a look on concern.
“What?” I ask.
“You, you sure about this?” He says quietly. “I know you want revenge, but Magnus…” He shakes his head. “Magnus is going for Chapter Lord, he has help, he has numbers behind him. If he figures out where we are, he can simply wipe us off the board.”
“That won’t happen.” I state.
“Why?”
“Because I’m his brother.” I say.
“Devin, he had you locked in a fucking nuthouse.”
Yeah, that’s true. But if Magnus was truly done with me, he would have had me eliminated. He would have had me exterminated. The fact I’m still alive proves I’m a weak spot.
“He needs Titus.” I add. “Without him, he cannot perform the final ritual.”
“Other Chapter Lords have gotten around it.”
That’s true. We both know that, but right now, the Brethren is fractured. The Esau have seen to that. But that too works in our favour. After the death of Gunther, and then the explosive death of Turner, his successor, the Brethren are on shaky ground. We need stability.
It’s no doubt, another reason why my brother was chosen in the first place, why he became a viable candidate.
“Trust me, Lyndon,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.”
He narrows his eyes, searching my face as if he could possibly read my thoughts, and then he gives a reluctant nod.
I pat him on the back, reassuring him, before I turn back to look at all the others.
“Brothers,” I say loudly, getting their attention.
The noise, the chatter, all of it instantly dies.
“Tonight, we made our mark, tonight we got a nice tiny slice of revenge. So drink, celebrate, enjoy our victory, and tomorrow, the rest of us will be here to celebrate too.” I declare.
Cheers erupt at my words.
I grab a beer, necking half of it in one go.
I have no intention of getting drunk, no intention of losing control. The alcohol might take the edge off but if there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s never underestimate him, never rest on your laurels.
Silently, I slip away, slip into the darkness of my room. This compound is so big we’re fortunate enough that none of us have to share, despite our numbers.
I toss my boots off, sink onto the crinkly sleeping bag and reach up onto the shelf, pulling down the glass jar. It took me a lot of effort to get hold of this. To break in, to get past all those new guards. It’s the only piece I own of her right now, but it won’t be the last.
I stare into it, stare into what feels like the abyss.
And I know it’s staring right back at me.
Bright blue, devastatingly brilliant eyes. Her eyes. My eyes now.
Windows to her very fucking soul.