Page 118 of Tragic Empire

His jaw clenches and a nefarious look flashes in his eye. “I think you’ve had enough of both for quite some time now, Ana. First my delinquent son and now this Italian beast you’ve sullied yourself with.”

“You’re angry with me?—”

“Of course I’m angry with you!” Bron shouts, making me flinch. “You let them touch you. Youaskedthem for it. You aren’t theirs to touch!”

“You could have had me, if you tried,” I rasp, grasping for anything to keep him calm. “I l-liked you. I knew you took care of me. We could have?—”

“No, no, no,” Bron tsks. “Don’t think you can save their lives by sweet talking me, love. I know you won’t forgive me for what I’ve done to Cole. In time, you’ll learn to live with it, though.”

“I could forgive you for Cole,” I offer, anger threatening to destroy my plans. “But my mum, Bron? How could I ever learn to live with that?”

“You think I killed your mother?” he scoffs. “Vivian was no threat to me. She was good for you, even if she was a bit of an obstacle. I’m not amonster, Ana.”

You killed your own son!I want to shout.

“How am I supposed to believe you? She died that same day. With pictures?—”

“Yes, yes, I know, it was all very dramatic. You have Mr. Tilton to thank for that. He had a tail on you three the night my men took you. Instead of helping, or running away, the man did his job and took pictures.”

Glen Tilton? The arsehole art collector?

“W-what?”

“He sent them all straight over toMr. Tilton, and the fucker thought he struck gold. He wanted to use them to get to Vivian in some way, and of course, he had already followed her to London weeks ago. It was incredible timing for him, so he used the security shift change as a distraction, slipping into the flat undetected.”

Fighting back tears, I sniff. “How do you know all of this?”

“I see everything, love. If I wasn’t so preoccupied faking my own death, I might have been able to stop him. But no, within minutes of breaking in, he realized his mistake. Vivian would never believe you were dead or dying without true proof. Photos could be staged or doctored. And he knew if he left, she would alert security and he would be killed. So he decided to gamble. Stage a suicide, hack the security footage to delete his time there, and then seek you out later on. Hoping to use your grief to take as many paintings off of your hands as he could, I suppose.”

“And you just let him get away with it?”

“Have you seen or heard from him since he tried to visit you at the penthouse?” Bron challenges, lifting a brow. “Yeah, I didn’t think so, love. His body has been rotting at the bottom of the Hudson for weeks.”

“Okay,” I breathe, digesting the information. “Then let them go. Take Killian and me back to London. We’ll act like all of this was a blip, like it never happened. We can move on, and I can follow whatever rules you want. I’ll never look back, I promise.”

Bron looks contemplative, tilting his head at me.

“Just don’t make me live with more deaths on my conscience,” I whisper, reaching forward to lay my hand on his chest. “I can’t bear it.”

“Fine,” Bron acquiesces.

Exhaling a relieved breath, I open my mouth to thank him, only for a scream to replace the words. My ears ring as a shot fires from Bron’s extended arm. I watch in horror as blood blooms from Colton’s stomach, drenching his white T-shirt.

“Fuck,” he groans, hunching over in his binds.

“No,” Armani slurs, his heavy eyes on his best friend. He tries to shift to get closer, but he’s too out of it to even move an inch.

“Why would you do that!” I shout, my hands crossing up to clutch my shoulders, folding in on myself in shock.

Rolling his eyes, Bron hums. “They’ll need incentive not to follow us. He won’t die, as long as these two break out of their binds and get him to a hospital in time.”

Bile creeps up my throat, sickness threatening to spill.

“You’re not backing out on me now that I’ve shot your little friend, are you, Ana?” Bron challenges and lifts a brow.

“N-no,” I answer, stuttering.

“I think I need you to prove it, love.” He looks me up and down, making my skin crawl. “How should I have you do that, hmm?”