Page 19

Chapter 19

Caspian

Victor Berents.

The boss of the Verisa underground. The most infamous man in all of Sunrunner lands. He was rumored to have a hand in every illegal dealing in the whole city, from drugs to illegal guns to protection rackets, like an old school movie mobster from Gloombringer lands.

Part of the reason my ancestors had made our land’s laws so relatively lax had been to avoid men like this.

If you were allowed to buy drugs, then why buy illegal ones that might have rat poison cut in? But then they started getting people addicted to the painkillers that hospitals gave as prescriptions and making it hard for actually sick people to get what they needed, so we’d regulated some drugs.

Guns were fine as long as you had a permit, which were cheap and easy to get. Except if you had a history of gun violence. Of course there needed to be laws that if you’d used a gun to hurt someone without legal justification or in self-defense, you should no longer be allowed to own a gun.

And suddenly, people like Victor Berents had a place in our society, selling people the few things they shouldn’t be able to get. Because he didn’t care whether they had things that were dangerous to others, he only cared about making money.

Frost’s brother was friendly with Victor Berents.

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? He’d essentially spent the last ten years of his life as a paid assassin, so who else would he be friends with?

“Mr. Emrys,” the man said, his voice as warm and unctuous as honey in the middle of summer. He was wearing a Gloombringer-cut suit that looked like it was worth more than the car we’d arrived in, his black hair slicked back to show everyone his pale, pale blue eyes. And the scar that ran the entire side of his face. Four silver lines that ran from his hair all the way to his jaw. It was a bit of a surprise it hadn’t taken his eye, but I supposed it was possible that his left eye was glass. It was a perfect match for his right, but the man might have as much money as my family, so why wouldn’t it be?

He shook Kit’s hand, smiling . . . well, I could only describe it as genuinely. He seemed pleased to see Kit, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad one.

He retrieved a drink from the bartender slash bodyguard and sat down across from Kit on a black leather chair that perfectly matched the sectional sofa Kit had decided to take up in its entirety.

Throwing his feet up on the table in the middle of the seating area, he leaned back into the chair and finally glanced at first Frost, then me, then seemed to dismiss us. “I was hoping you might have remembered my offer, and that was why you’d come to see us.”

Kit snorted at that, then asked, his voice as dry as the surrounding desert, “To work for you if I ever left the Dawnchaser’s employ?”

“I mean, you’ve clearly left that arrogant prick’s employ, yes? Surely you’re not working for him from behind bars.” He cocked his head, then waved a hand dismissively. “No, of course you’re not.”

“No, I helped them arrest him.”

The man lifted a brow at that, then smirked. “Clever of you. Really, though, anyone who loses control of his situation as thoroughly as he did needs to be imprisoned, for the good of society.”

There was a noise, and everyone looked at me. Fuck. Fuck me, the noise had been me. I’d scoffed aloud.

The man’s eyes twinkled with mirth, though, and he didn’t seem the least bit angry. “Your young friend knows me by reputation, then.”

Kit waved it off, seeming as casual as before. He was going to wait to yell at me later for fucking everything up, then. “Everyone who’s ever spent more than three days in Verisa knows you by reputation, Victor. And while I’d be more than happy to spend another night in your bed, I haven’t come back for your job offer.”

“Mmm, I’d say pity, but that’s not such a bad offer, coming from you,” the man said, sighing and glancing Kit over. The look was so overtly sexual that it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to imagine how it made Kit feel. Still, he didn’t squirm. Or uncontrollably scoff aloud, like some kind of fucking jackass. “But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here.”

Kit smirked. “Funny that you should have mentioned the good of society. I entirely agree. Huxley was out of control, and by the end, he was trying to murder his own son because he’d lost the plot so deeply.”

“Shows what you know about him,” Berents shot back. “His son was always his biggest target. He hated the boy. Jealous of his own heir, for being younger and better looking and better liked than him. It was always pathetic.”

Kit shook his head, but he was smiling. Really smiling. Like this conversation was fun. Entertaining. “I was well aware of his jealousy, actually. It was pathetic. But he usually kept it in check, because jealous or not, Florian was his legacy. Florian was supposed to continue his name in the world after he was gone.”

Berents considered for a moment, staring at the wall above Kit’s head, then slowly, he nodded. “A fair point. Really, it’s the problem with being a complete fucking narcissist. Too many conflicting inclinations. The desperate need to be loved, but an inability to do anything worthy of that love.”

Kit didn’t even answer that, just nodded, taking another sip of his drink.

“All right, so you’re not here to work for me. We both know you could find a satisfactory bed partner anywhere, so I won’t flatter myself by suggesting that you had to have another night in my bed.” This time, I managed to keep my shudder to myself. Really, Kit seemed like such a smart guy. Why would he fuck a monster? “So what is it you’ve actually come for?”

“More ruling family drama, I’m afraid,” Kit answered, easily, quickly, like they were old friends just shooting the breeze, and this wasn’t possibly a situation of life or death for the whole damned country.

Berents laughed, though this time it felt a little tense. “Of course. You haven’t come to work for me because you’ve already gotten yourself hired on by another ruling family. The only thing that could possibly make you more money than working for me. Don’t tell me Dane Sunrunner has finally realized he should have someone watching his back.”

Kit leaned forward, setting his glass down on the table and meeting Victor’s eyes steadily. “You know he hasn’t. You’re one of the smartest men in Verisa. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Is he dead?” Berents asked, going serious and setting his own glass on the table in front of him, leaning toward Kit. “It’s the only explanation I can think of for how long he’s been out of the public eye. Are you working for the wicked witch? That’s beneath you, Emrys.”

Kit lifted a brow at that. “By wicked witch, I presume you mean Rachel Sunrunner?” When Berents just nodded, Kit rolled his eyes. “First of all, let’s not malign wicked witches with comparisons like that. Second, I’d sooner work for a literal viper, and we both know I’ve basically done that.”

Berents laughed at that. “Fair enough. No witch has ever done me any harm, after all.” He curled his hand into a fist, then released it and absently reached up and ran the backs of his fingers down his own cheek.

No. He couldn’t . . . he couldn’t be saying what he seemed to be saying. Aunt Rachel had scarred him? The lines were certainly far enough apart to have been made by a bear, which was Aunt Rachel’s shift.

But why? How would they have even known each other? He was a criminal, and . . . well, and so was she, if Kit was right.

“The old wolf hasn’t been seen in the city in over a week,” Berents finally said after a long, awkward silence. His voice was tight, as though he was telling someone his least favorite story. “I assumed she’d finally lost patience with his incompetence and killed him, since his heir has also disappeared. I figured she’d wait a while, declare them both dead, and then put herself in charge officially.”

Kit waited, one brow lifted, as though certain there was more information.

After a moment, Berents sighed. “What do you want from me? We’ve all done our part to keep the kid alive, from the local authorities to the palace staff. Hells, I was half hoping someday he’d put me out of business. What decent man doesn’t step back when the next generation is ready to take over?”

The next . . . what? That was ridiculous, there was no reason a crime lord would ever step down from his position because I existed. What, just because I was younger than him?

Also, it was certainly true that the palace staff and local authorities had always seemed to have my back, but how would Victor Berents know about it?

Once more, Kit leaned back, drawing all attention to himself as he stretched his shoulders. Meeting the eye of the biggest monster in Sunrunner lands, he smirked a little and asked, “Do you think the kid even knows you’re his uncle?”

Berents actually seemed momentarily shocked by the question. “Of course he knows. How could he not? I mean, his mother was Lydia Berents. The old bastard never married her, so I assume that’s what’s on her tombstone. Not that I’m fucking allowed in the private Sunrunner graveyard to visit her.” That last, he snarled, and it was easy to see pain in the expression.

It didn’t say that.

Her headstone only said Lydia. Beloved, and Beloved Mother. There was no last name. I’d always just sort of thought of her as one of those celebrities with one name.

Somehow, I didn’t want to tell him that. Not because I thought he’d be angry—though I was sure he would, and rightfully so—but because it wasn’t right. If my mother had been a Berents, and his sister, it didn’t matter if I hated everything he stood for. How could my family ignore that, ignore him, for all these years?

What was fucking wrong with us?

Kit, obviously more rational than I was in the moment, shrugged. “I couldn’t say, I haven’t seen it. Are you saying you’re not going to kill the kid if he tries to run you out of business?”

Victor Berents snorted. “You kidding? If you’ve met him, you know that’s never going to happen. He . . . he was trying, a few years back. Pushed this house the homeless legislature his father had been ignoring for years and that bitch Rachel was against. House the homeless , Emrys. You were the one who told me you weren’t into kicking puppies. Because you might do work for money, but you’re not a monster. If the kid is actually going to fix all the shit that’s wrong with this place, or try to, why would I interfere? It’s about fucking time someone other than my family stepped up. Well . . . I guess someone else in my family, but who can do things the legal way.”

Kit snorted. “You know, that’s what Dawnchaser always hated most about you, Victor. ‘All that money, and he wants to waste it on a bunch of drug addled degenerates,’ he’d whine whenever we left here.”

And that . . . nope. That was fucking it.

“What? What are you talking about?”

I half expected Kit to snarl at me for breaking character, but instead, he smirked and didn’t even glance in my direction. “I’m talking about how your uncle employs half the former criminals in this city. Gives them gainful employment that other places won’t. Helps people detox from all the poison people pump into their veins in Verisa. Smuggles people out of the city if they can’t handle it here or need to escape drug or gambling debts.”

Berents turned to stare at me, and I snatched off the fucking irritating sunglasses and glared at Kit. “You knew we were related before this.”

“Honestly? Yes. I didn’t realize you didn’t know it until a few minutes ago. I mean, he’s your uncle. I had no idea you wouldn’t know already. It doesn’t make sense that you didn’t.” Kit finally turned to look at me, but he didn’t budge from the couch, clearly believing this turn of events was just fine.

Well fucking fine for both of us, then. I rounded the couch and sat my ass down. “Someone needs to explain everything to me. Right fucking now.”

Berents . . . was smiling from ear to ear. Jesus, the man looked . . . was that pleased? Relieved? I’d never, since my mother died, seen a member of my family pleased to see me. He scooted even farther forward in the chair and reached out to grab my hand, which was still balled into a fist as though I might hit someone. He wasn’t put off in the slightest, just squeezing my fist tight. “You’re alive. Fuck me, kid, I’m so glad you’re alive. I was afraid that bitch finally managed to kill you.”

I almost cried, because . . . because a man I’d always thought of as a monster was my uncle.

More than that, because he fucking cared.