Page 59 of From Hell

“Out of my way, Cochrane.” I shove past him.

When I get to my car, I glance back in the rearview mirror, and Addison is watching me, a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

It doesn’t matter. He goes near Laine, and I’ll make that fucking smile permanent. After the Ripper fucked up, allowing Laine to live, only I knew what he’d done. We never spoke about it, and the acolytes didn’t ask who it was who saw them. They never cared about specifics as long as they are allowed to do what the fuck they like and not have to answer for any of it. In return, they serve the Divine. That’s how it works. As long as Laine stayed hidden, it would have been fine.

But now…

My father’s PA sent me a message to say an appointment to see Max at HMP Hanbury has been arranged. I call in late for work and drive over there.

The guards bring Max, shuffling into the private room in a gray jumpsuit, cuffed at the waist. I watch through the one-way glass. It’s been seven years since I saw him. His dark hair has grayed at the temples, his shoulders are hunched over, and deep lines mar his forehead. He looks in his forties, even though we’re the same age.

He spits in the lawyer’s face as soon as the guard cuffs him to the table and leaves them alone. “They said my lawyer was here. Like, what fucking lawyer? You left me here to rot.”

Donald wipes his saliva away, reading through his papers. “This is the punishment you accepted.”

“Like I had a choice,” he snarls at him.

“Your brother is well, should you be interested.”

Max’s eyes bulge, and he jumps forward, making Donald jerk back. Time to cut this short. Outside the visitor’s room, I motion to the guard to open the door so I can enter.

Max immediately pales as I stroll in. “I—I told the bitch nothing, I swear!”

“Max,” I soothe. “How are you?”

“I swear it, Jax.”

“I know, I watched the tape.” I glance at the security camera in the corner, so he knows what I mean by that. The governor is also golf buddies with my father.

“She knew it wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t it?” I tilt my head. “Donald has an offer for you—a way to repent.”

Donald slides an envelope just within reach of Max’s hands. Max makes no move to open it. He stares at it like it might eat him alive.

“Your prescription,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone. I let the darkness play over my features as that sinks in. Max blinks, tears streaming down his face.

“Tell my brother…” His body jerks from the emotion. “I love him.” Donald has his head down, writing quickly, quietly.

Unmoved, I give Max one last look. “Make sure you take it before bed.”

I leave Donald to deliver the rest of the paperwork for Max to sign. I glance at my watch. That took less than five minutes—dissatisfaction floods through my bones. The Archkey prefers things to be wrapped up this way lately, with minimal fuss and no effort. It’s efficient, but it leaves a hollow in my chest. Max isn’t innocent. He took things too far with his initiation, as most do, getting caught up in the lust for power. Max Lamberton was unfortunate to be picked as an example to the rest. We harvest lives, but there’s an order to observe and follow.

Max made a mistake.

What a waste.

I, too, appreciate the pull of darkness. My sweet fox brings me close to the edge whenever I’m near her. I couldn’t wait to bring her to heel in my own time. But now, my father has her in his sights as a threat. Before, when she was unknown, I could protect her, even when she was snooping, playing at being a killer. Now, her days are short-lived. If I don’t silence her, the Archkey will send someone else. The thought of Shepherd laying a hand on her has red flickering across my vision. Addison looking in her direction has heat blistering under my skin as my blood boils.

“Sir?”

I blink, the world around me swimming in hazy focus. I’m standing outside the car that brought me here, my fist bloodied, and the rear passenger window shattered.

The driver is looking at me, worry etched on his face.

I unclench my hand, pain sliding across my bare knuckles where punching the glass obliterated the skin and sunk into bone. I barely feel it. Shepherd had better not so much as look in her direction.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” The driver opens the door, the remnants of glass tinkling as it falls from the frame. “I can stop at the club—”