Page 69 of Hurt

And the one who gave them to him.

Ezra was tracing the lines of lacerations, reinjuring Kurt. The color was gone from the man’s face, and he leaned as far away from Ezra as his arms would allow.

Everything suddenly clicked. Ezra went to Kurt for his parent’s debt, but he wasn’t taking money.

He was taking Kurt.

In a blur, he suddenly felt everything clarifying. Kurt was being abused by Ezra—that’s why he sent Noah away, that’s why he disappeared off the map, and why he was hiding out at The Sunspot. Those leather bands were hiding scars from his attempt to free himself.

The pit that had opened up in the bottom of his stomach spit out something ugly and oily. Cold hatred clenched at Grant’s heart, and he felt something snap like an old rubber band. Rage made everything crystal clear. Sharp. Wrath clawed up his skin like armor, and he settled into it, let it infect his heart.

Everything in him demanded that he fling this table to the side and rip Ezra’s throat out right now.

Kurt caught his eye. Behind the fear was understanding. He shook his head, a warning for Grant not to do anything. Not here. Not on neutral territory.

He pulled out his trump card. A copy of the envelope. Slapping it on the table, Grant leaned back in his chair.

“We know you’ve bought off Congressman Thomas. I’m curious—how was he smuggling illegal firearms into Mexico without your help? With your drug network, you would have the connections to get weapons across the border.”

Ezra’s face paled, and he released Kurt. The man scampered out of the room, never looking back. Something settled in Grant’s heart. He’d had to keep himself calm as long as Ezra was holding a hostage.

“We have enough evidence to send Congressman Thomas to prison for a very, very long time. And the list of debtors in that envelope is quite extensive. Surely some of them would be willing to testify against you.”

Ezra sneered. “You could try. I would be out of prison in twenty-four hours.”

“That’s true,” Grant admitted, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “But I wonder how much damage could be done to you in twenty-four hours?”

Roland looked over at his brother in surprise. This was not how the meeting was supposed to go.

“How much are they paying Corrections Officers these days? Not enough to ignore a bribe, surely. It would be so easy, too…just one camera has to malfunction. One door left open.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and pinning Ezra with his gaze. “Make no mistake, I would pay obscene quantities of money to watch you suffer. To hear you scream until you were nothing more than a quivering mess begging for mercy.”

Grant watched him swallow as his eyes darted from Roland back to him.

“…you don’t have any proof,” he said, ignoring Asher’s pleading hand on his shoulder. “And even if you did, would you really risk going to the cops?”

“You’re right,” Grant said to his surprise. “I wouldn’t go to the cops. Because, unlike you, I take care of things personally. It would be easy to throw money at the problem. Pay someone until it goes away.”

The chair creaked under Grant as he struggled to hold onto his rage. “But I don’t take the easy way out, Ezra. You needed Congressman Thomas’ money and support to go against us, fine. Get all the support you need.”

Ezra started to speak, but Grant slammed his palm down on the table.

“Because I will personally rain a godforsaken firestorm down upon you. There will be nothing left of your empire but a scorched stain on the Earth. But don’t worry. I won’t let anyone forget the name Vega—your name will be synonymous with so much pain that children will cry at the very thought of it.”

An indignant grunt came from Ezra, and he started to stand.

“Sit down! I’m not finished speaking, you ignoramus. I’m going to beat you so badly your own soul won’t recognize you. Your face will be so grotesque that your family will shriek in terror when they see you. I will drill the marrow from your bones. When I’m finished with you, even Prometheus chained to the mountain will feel sympathy for you.”

Grant stood, kicking his chair out and straightening his lapels. Roland stood with him, glaring down at the Vega brothers.

“You wanted a war? I’ll bring you an execution. I won’t stop until I’ve taken your head.” He walked past the table, not deigning to look down at the sniveling men.

“It’ll be biblical, Ezra. I promise you.”

Kurt laid his head back against the thick velvet curtain and breathed.

He knows.

Grant had looked at him, and in that moment, Kurt knew that Grant had seen through it all. All his bullshit, all his lies, everything he had built up around him for years was obliterated under those goddamn hazel eyes. The smile had fallen from his face, and something slipped in its place. It was cold and cruel. The pleasant spark was gone from his eyes, and his lips were pressed together.