Page 70 of Silent Schemes

The ring on his finger—a gaudy gold thing with the Cross family crest—has split the skin on my cheekbone.

"There," he says, satisfied, watching blood well up on my face. "Now you look more like yourself. Your father wants proof you haven't turned. Intel. Real intel, not the breadcrumbs you've been feeding Vincent."

My hand goes to my jacket pocket where the flash drive sits like a lead weight.

I've been carrying it for days, hoping I'd never have to use it, knowing I would.

It contains everything about Will Romano—Varrick's mentor, his father figure, the man who saved him more times than anyone can count.

Safe houses, personal schedule, guard rotations, even his medical conditions.

Everything needed to capture or kill him.

The betrayal tastes like acid as I pull it out, hold it between us like the weapon it is.

"Will Romano's complete profile," I say, my voice steady despite the self-loathing coursing through me. "This is worth more than anything Vincent has gathered in three years."

Bastian takes it, turns it over in his fingers like he's assessing its weight. "Romano, hm? Bane's precious mentor. This will hurt him."

"That's the point, isn't it?"

"Is it? Or are you hoping warning him will earn his forgiveness when he finds out you're the source?"

"He won't find out."

"Everyone finds out eventually, cousin. Secrets have a way of surfacing, especially in our world." He pockets the drive, but his eyes narrow. "This doesn't buy you infinite time. Your father expects results. One month. Varrick Bane dies within one month, or Theodore sends me to do it. And you know I won't be gentle about it. Might even make you watch while I handle your sister first. Sweet little Maya. Seventeen is such a tender age."

"One month," I agree through gritted teeth, imagining all the ways I could kill him right now, make it look like an accident or a rival family's hit.

"Good." He steps closer, too close, his hand sliding down my arm possessively. "You know, I've always wondered what's so special about you. Why your father think of his eldest daughterso highly. Maybe I should test if you've gone soft. See if Bane has ruined you for other men."

His hand moves to my waist, starting to slide lower, fingers pressing against my hip. "I doubt your father would mind. Might even approve of keeping things in the family."

I react without thinking—grab his wrist, twist until I hear the satisfying crack of bones breaking.

He screams, drops to his knees, the sound echoing through the parking garage.

"Touch me again, cousin, and I'll mail your balls to my father myself. One at a time. With detailed notes about how long you screamed."

"You fucking bitch!" He's cradling his broken wrist, tears streaming down his face, all pretense of sophistication gone. "Your fatherwillhear about this."

"Yes, he will. Tell him his weapon is still sharp. Tell him Varrick Bane will be dead within the month. And tell him if he sends anyone else to test me, they'll come back in pieces. Smaller pieces than the ones I usually leave."

I leave him there, whimpering on the concrete like the child he really is, and drive back to the penthouse with my hands shaking so hard I can barely grip the steering wheel.

Will Romano is going to die because of the information I just handed over.

A good man, one of the few in this life, and I've just signed his death warrant, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s either him or me… and I refuse to fall to this life.

The weight of it sits on my chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe.

The city passes in a blur of gray and glass.

I take the long way back, needing time to compose myself, to rebuild the mask that Varrick sees through anyway.

But there's no hiding this.