Page 56 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

T he sound of Gideon’s boot connecting with the heavy oak door reverberated through the mansion like a gunshot. The door flew open, slamming against the wall with enough force to rattle the windows as he strode into Townsend’s study.

He was done playing games. Townsend was dying tonight, whether he revealed any intelligence or not.

“What is this bastard saying?” he demanded.

St. John looked up from where he sat facing their bound captive, a hot poker glinting in his hand. “He is denying everything,” he said. “Claims to know nothing about any brotherhood and insists this is all some elaborate misunderstanding.”

Townsend sat bound to a heavy wooden chair. His face was bloodied from Gideon’s initial blow, with dried blood crusting his upper lip and staining his formerly pristine cravat. His coat, waistcoat, and shirt were open, his stockings rolled down, and there was clear evidence of burns on his skin.

As far as Gideon knew, it was the best interrogation technique—no blood, no cuts, no open wounds, and it hurt like hell.

Despite his battered appearance, Townsend seemed composed, if slightly out of breath.

“You barge into my house,” he said, his voice hoarse but still carrying that maddening note of assumed superiority. “Killing my servants—who do you think you are? By what right do you—”

“People who are here to stop your parade of cruelty,” Gideon interrupted, his voice deadly quiet as he moved closer to the bound man.

Townsend’s chin lifted defiantly, though sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air. “You’re mistaken about who I am. I’m simply a gentleman trying to make my way in the world, nothing more than—”

“I am not mistaken,” Leila’s voice cut through his protestations.

All heads turned toward the doorway where she stood, supporting Emir, who leaned heavily against her smaller frame. He wasn’t hurt as far as Gideon could see—just emaciated, dirty, and weak from lack of movement.

Which was terrible enough for a growing fifteen-year-old boy.

“And neither am I,” Emir added.

Leila’s gaze locked with Townsend’s across the room, and the change in the man’s expression was immediate.

The mask of confused innocence fell away, replaced by blazing contempt, perhaps loathing.

His lips pulled back from his teeth in something that might have been a smile but looked more like a snarl, and his bound hands clenched into fists despite the ropes cutting into his wrists.

Payne stepped forward. “All I want to know is why?” he asked. “Why abduct me, torture me, ruin my life? You already had everything; you truly didn’t need the title, did you?”

For a moment, Townsend’s attention shifted from Leila to his cousin, and something almost human flickered across his features. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“If it helps,” he said, his voice dropping to something approaching genuine regret, “you were never the target. It was simply a mistake. A coincidence.”

Payne’s jaw tightened, his hand unconsciously moving to the hilt of his sword. “Good to know.”

Gideon moved to stand directly in front of the bound man, close enough that Townsend had to crane his neck back to meet his gaze.

“How many members of the Brotherhood are there?” he asked in a soft, conversational tone.

Townsend’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes focusing on some point over Gideon’s shoulder as if the question hadn’t been asked at all.

“Are there other factions operating on the Continent?” Gideon continued, undeterred by the lack of response.

Still nothing. Townsend might as well have been carved from stone for all the reaction he showed.

“Are you working for someone, or are you the leader of all of this?” Then he paused and asked the question that mattered to him the most. “Who killed my family?”

Something came to life in Townsend’s features, and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. But he remained silent, relishing the fact that he was riling them all up. He enjoyed being tortured, being asked questions. He felt powerful this way.

And Gideon refused to give him more power.

If there were any more answers to get, it wasn’t within Townsend.

Gideon straightened and turned to address the Shadows who had been standing guard by the windows and doorway.

“Clear out,” he ordered, his voice carrying the snap of absolute command. “Take all the documents with you—every scrap of paper, every ledger, every map from that secret chamber. Leave nothing that might be useful to anyone else.”

The operatives moved swiftly, gathering armloads of papers. Within minutes, the hidden study had been stripped of everything that might provide intelligence about the Brotherhood’s operations.

As the last of his people filed out, Gideon turned to Leila, with Emir still leaning heavily on her supporting arm. “Please go, too,” Gideon said gently. “St. John will help you out of this house while I have a last word with our captive.”

Leila seemed to immediately understand the implications of his words. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll stay with you. Emir, you should go, though.”

“I am not leaving you, Abla ,” he said weakly.

“I will be right behind you. Go.”

St. John took the young man by the arm and whispered something to him. Emir allowed himself to be led away, though he looked back over his shoulder with obvious reluctance.

Payne moved to stay by the door but refused to leave either. He deserved to see what happened to his cousin. He deserved to say the last word if he wanted to. He deserved closure.

Only then did Gideon turn his full attention back to their captive.

“You can maintain your silence as long as you want,” he said conversationally.

“The thing is, I already know what you’ve done.

I know about the people you’ve killed, the lives you’ve destroyed, the suffering you’ve caused.

” He paused, his voice taking on a hard edge.

“And the simple fact that you hurt Leila is reason enough for me to kill you.”

For the first time since his capture, Townsend spoke, his voice carrying a note of condescending superiority that grated against every nerve. “I don’t kill people,” he said, his gaze flickering meaningfully between Gideon and Leila. “Unlike some people.”

Leila stepped forward, her dark eyes flashing with an anger that transformed her features into something fierce and dangerous.

“Right,” she said. “You only direct others to kill, blackmail them, run child brothels, sell humans like cattle, and order people to kill your cousin for the title—all so you can lead a wealthy life while pretending to be pathetic. Which you are.”

Townsend’s smile was cold and calculating. “Yes, I commanded others, but you were always free to walk away,” he said, each word chosen for maximum impact. “Every mission, every assignment—you chose to accept them. No one forced you.”

“That is true,” Leila acknowledged, her voice steady. “You never forced me. You just made it clear what would happen to me if I didn’t comply.”

“You could have run,” Townsend continued. “Hidden somewhere I couldn’t find you. You always had choices, and you chose to stay by my side, to be my weapon, my whore .”

Gideon stepped forward, rage building inside him, ready to tear the bastard apart. Leila grabbed his arm, and Townsend’s gaze fell on her hand. A curious glint appeared in his eyes, and he couldn’t hide a smirk.

Gideon’s rage was replaced with warmth in his chest. He had Leila now, and Townsend had nothing.

“Hm.” Gideon pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if he were considering some interesting philosophical point. “Interesting perspective. Well, I am giving you a choice now.”

He leisurely walked to the wall, pulled a lit candle from the sconce, and, slowly and casually, tossed it onto the Persian carpet that covered much of the office floor. The flame caught immediately, fed by the natural oils in the expensive fabric.

“You can either burn to death,” Gideon said lazily, watching as the flames began to spread with hungry eagerness, “or jump from that second-story window.” He gestured toward the window behind Townsend’s chair.

“Of course, the window is locked, and you’re tied to a chair, but…

” He shrugged with mocking indifference.

“Nobody is forcing you to remain in this room.”

The fire spread quickly, racing across the carpet toward stacks of remaining papers and the wooden furniture. The smell of smoke began to fill the room, and the temperature rose noticeably as the flames gained strength and height.

Townsend’s eyes took on a resigned look, but he didn’t make a peep.

Gideon took Leila by the arm, nudging her toward the door. They walked past Payne, who lingered a moment longer before following them out.

Fire cracked loudly, consuming everything in its path and starting to travel farther than just the study.

Soon it would take the entire house.

But they wouldn’t see it burn.

They walked out the door, boarded their carriages, and drove away without looking back.