Page 97 of Revere

Not long ago, Patience was mine. Now she doesn’t even want to look at me. It might be partly my fault for keeping my involvement with the House from her. But unfortunately for Derek, he will be the one to pay.

“Well, it’s good to have you back.” Declan smirks. “Sorry for the mess you’re going to be cleaning up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” He grins. “I’m not.”

I chuckle, stepping farther into the basement, pausing at the edge of the bricked-off circle. Derek’s arms are bound by chains above his head, but at this point, he barely has the energy left to crack his one remaining eye open to watch me.

Bruises and cuts in various stages from bleeding to healing spot his body, but it isn’t enough. There isn’t enough fear in hiseyes—his soul. He still thinks this will be a pleasant death, and I’m here to make sure it isn’t.

There’s a reason they call me the Interrogator, and it isn’t because I administered trials for new initiates. If torture is an art, then I’m an artist. And for my girl, I’ll paint a masterpiece with this piece of shit.

“We had a deal, Derek. You know better than to go against my orders.” I tap the toe of my shoe against the brick wall.

“You were the one who brought her to LA to lure in her father.” He coughs. “You aren’t the only one owed a piece of Gideon. What he did to my family?—”

“Is irrelevant now.” Although bloody and brutal. “We had an agreement. My idea, my rules. Things changed, and I made it clear she wasn’t to be brought in. She wasn’t to be touched.”

“I didn’t.”

“Anson did. And you helped him take her. Making your argument pointless. What you allowed to happen—” I can’t even say it out loud, much less think it.

Another man on top of her.

Touching her.

My teeth are going to crack if I don’t shut my mind off.

Even if I hadn’t fallen for her, I never would have let someone force themself on her.

Taking a deep breath, I relax my hands at my sides and pull my shoulders back. Anson is taken care of, and Derek is next. Then this can be over.

“What?” Fear floods Derek’s voice as he watches my expression change.

He’s known me since college, and we’ve spent many moments like this. Although, he’s usually standing where Declan is right now when we are in these situations. He knows when my work is done. When I have no more use for a person.

“You trusted the wrong person, Derek. You forgot who is in charge.”

The door opens again, and Alex steps in holding a large metal box. His eyes are stone-cold when he meets my gaze.

A conversation is coming, but that’s not why we’re both here. Whether he hates me as much as his sister does right now or not, this is for her.

“What is this?” Derek tries to pull back as I walk over to the wall and release the drain.

Slowly, the water empties, and while that might be a relief after his legs have spent a day soaking and rotting, we both know what comes next isn’t any better.

“You can’t do this. We’ve been friends for years.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“I took you to her.” He panics. “I got you there before Anson did anything.”

“So I wouldn’t put a bullet in your head on the spot. I didn’t need you. I already knew where she was. How do you think I found you in the first place?” I shake my head at his lame attempt to argue his point. “That’s what you seem to forget, Derek. I always know. I’m always watching. I learned my lesson, and now I don’t take my eyes off what’s mine.”

He wrestles against the chains as Alex steps forward.

When Patience was still in LA, she told me her brother had been speaking again, but it’s still selective. And right now, he doesn’t waste any words on Derek.