Page 96 of Throne of Fire

From across the room I catch his hateful glare. His expensive suit is wrinkled and stained, his carefully maintained appearance crumbling along with his empire. The sight fills me with savage satisfaction.

"You think you've won?" Hampton spits, but I hear the tremor in his voice.

"I don't think. I know." I lean against the door jamb, savoring his impotent rage. "Your men have abandoned you. The companies are back under Ifrinn control. Just like everything was supposed to be before you murdered my parents."

"Your father was?—”

"Beg," I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as I take out my gun and point it toward him. "Get on your knees and beg for mercy, Hampton. Maybe I'll consider being more merciful than you were to my family."

His face contorts with fury and fear. "You're nothing but a shadow of your father,” Hampton snarls, but his bravado rings hollow.

I laugh. "A shadow that brought you to your knees. Now beg, Hampton. Show everyone here how pathetic you really are."

I watch Hampton sink to his knees, his proud shoulders slumping in defeat. The sight should satisfy me, but it only fuels my contempt.

"Please," he grinds out through clenched teeth. "I'll give you anything. Money, territory, connections?—”

“I’ve already taken those back. Everything you think is yours belongs to me now. Your men, your empire, your reputation, they’re all mine."

“At least show my wife mercy?—”

“The same mercy you showed my mother? Ash’s girlfriend? That mercy? I’ll need a match for that.”

“You’ve made your point, Phoenix?—”

“Mr. Ifrinn.”

Hatred fills his eyes. “You’ve made your point, Mr. Ifrinn.”

“I’m not sure I have. You thought you could betray us and get away with it?" I lean closer, letting him see the darkness in my eyes. "You kidnapped Lucy and tried to kill Jenna."

"That was Ronan’s doing."

"What about Hannah? All you do is take and take like a glutton. But let me tell you, Hampton, the Ifrinns always collect their debts. And yours have been accruing interest for ten long years."

I'm about to turn away from Hampton's pathetic display when his wife says, “You haven't killed him because he’s still of use.”

“Shut up,” Hampton bellows at her.

I shrug. “You’re not wrong, but his use will be over soon. I’ve agreed to let Ash do the honor. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you when we rescued his wife.”

Mrs. Kean starts to stand, but I point the gun at her. Instead she stays seated, but she sits at attention, eager to bargain her way out of this. “Or keeping Hampton can improve your situation. A joining of the families.”

I snort. “My father tried an alliance, and you burned it to ash.”

“Not business, or not a partnership, anyway. My daughter. Keira. She's beautiful, accomplished. A proper match for the new king of Boston."

Images flood my mind unbidden. A stolen moment behind the garden maze at a charity gala, her laugh like wind chimes, fingers intertwined as we plotted our escape from our families' expectations. Before the fire. Before everything burned.

But that woman is gone, just as the young man I’d been is gone too.

I shake off the sweet memory and instead think about sweet revenge. “You want to trade your own daughter?"

"To save my husband and myself? Yes." Mrs. Kean lifts her chin. "She’s never been touched?—”

I laugh harshly. I know that’s not true.

“No, really. We’ve been saving her for the perfect match. She’ll make a good wife. She knows her place.”