Page 26

twenty-six

The penthouse was half-finished, half-forgotten.

Cold concrete floors, exposed steel beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a skyline Frost probably owned half of. No furniture, just a single flickering work light in the corner and a few crates that served as a makeshift table.

The elevator had been shut off. One way up. One way down.

Which meant Sully wasn’t expecting company.

Atlas Frost sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, looking entirely too comfortable for a man in his position.

He grinned as they entered, all ease and amusement.

“Ah, the cavalry.”

Sullivan was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, looking bored as hell. But Davey didn’t miss the tension in his stance.

Not relaxed. Coiled. Waiting.

He ignored it for now, stepping closer to loom over Frost. “You’re gonna start talking.”

Frost tilted his head, all lazy amusement. “Well, that depends. Are you actually going to ask me something interesting?”

Davey opened his mouth, but Rowan beat him to it. “Rue. Why was she at your gala?”

Frost’s gaze flicked to her, smirk widening into something slow and knowing. “Ah. The professional.”

Davey caught the smallest twitch of Rowan’s fingers at her sides.

Frost chuckled. “Or do you prefer Vesper? That’s the name on the contract, isn’t it?” His gaze slid toward Davey, and his smile became wolfish. “The one you accepted to kill him.”

Rowan didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “Nice try, but he already knows. Now answer the question.”

Frost’s smirk didn’t falter. “Your sister is a brilliant, fascinating, gorgeous woman. Why wouldn’t I invite her?”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “You funded her expedition.”

Frost sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “You make it sound so nefarious.”

“Because it is.”

A thoughtful tilt of his head. “Believe it or not, I have a vested interest in keeping this planet habitable. I subsidize a lot of scientific endeavors.”

Rowan crossed her arms. “So, what? That’s just your little charity project?”

Frost’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it little. But yes, philanthropy is important to me.”

Davey cut in now, his patience thinning. “Cut the bullshit, Frost. Is Liam working for you?”

Laughter. The sound bounced off the bare walls, grating. “Liam Wilde? Please. That boy scout wouldn’t know how to be corrupt if I handed him an instruction manual.”

Davey studied him. Searching for any crack in that polished, infuriatingly pleasant mask.

Nothing.

“Cade, then.”

Frost exhaled, almost disappointed . “Oh, come on, Davey. Do you really not know your family at all?” A shake of his head. “If Cade Wilde wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have hired someone else to do it. He certainly wouldn’t have hired me to broker the deal and he definitely wouldn’t have hired her”—his gaze flicked to Rowan again—“given that you two eye-fuck each other every time you’re in a room together.”

The muscle in Davey’s jaw twitched. He ignored it. “So who hired you to hire her? Who wants me dead?”

Frost’s smile sharpened. “Now that’s a much more interesting question, isn’t it?” He leaned forward in the chair as much as his restraints would allow. “But I’m afraid I can’t answer it. Client confidentiality and all that.”

Davey’s fist clenched at his side. “Cut the shit, Frost. You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate here.”

Frost’s amusement didn’t waver. “Aren’t I?” His eyes glittered, calculating. “You can’t touch me, Davey. Not really. And we both know it.”

A shift to Davey’s right. Sabin, usually the easiest one in the room, moved forward. At that moment, he looked less like the snarky prankster and more like the deadly operative Davey knew him to be. “Want to bet on that, Frost? We could make you talk.”

Another laugh. “Oh, please. You’re not going to torture me. That’s not your style.”

Then he turned, eyes landing on Sullivan. And Davey knew—knew—before he even spoke.

“Well, maybe it’s his. Tell me, Sullivan. Do you know where your brother is?”

The air turned razor-sharp.

Every muscle in Sullivan’s body went rigid.

Rowan stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

Frost didn’t even look at her. Didn’t have to. His attention was still locked onto Sully, like a predator watching for the first sign of weakness.

“You’re all so worried about Liam or Cade.” The mockery faded from his voice, leaving something colder behind. “But you should be worried about Brody.”

Sullivan went very, very still.

Sabin’s coin slipped from his fingers, the soft clink against the floor barely registering. “What?”

“You heard me,” Frost said.

Davey had never wanted to put a bullet between a man’s eyes more.

Sullivan pushed off the wall. His face was blank, but Davey knew him well enough to see what was underneath.

“You’re lying,” Sully said, voice low and dangerous.

Frost tilted his head. “Am I?”

Another beat of silence. Then Sullivan grabbed him.

Frost chuckled. “Now, now. Let’s not get emotional.”

Sullivan’s grip tightened. His voice wasn’t calm anymore. “Where is he?”

Frost just kept grinning that Cheshire Cat smile.

Shit. Sully was about to do something stupid.

Davey moved, but not fast enough. In a blink, Sullivan had Frost by the collar and yanked him forward so violently into the punch, the chair screeched against the concrete.

Frost only laughed, all teeth and blood.

Davey reached them in two strides, shoving a hand against Sullivan’s chest before this turned into something messier. “Back off.”

Sullivan didn’t move.

“Sully.”

Nothing. His grip was locked, his jaw tight, his whole body wired.

Dangerous. That was the only word for what this moment was turning into.

Davey dug his fingers dug into Sullivan’s shoulder and dropped his voice to a low growl. “Stand down. Now.”

For a heartbeat, Sullivan didn’t move. His eyes were locked on Frost, something feral and desperate in his gaze. Then, with agonizing slowness, he released his grip on Frost’s collar. The chair settled back onto all four legs with a dull thud.

Frost’s grin widened, blood pearling at the corner of his mouth. “Ah,” he said, voice just this side of taunting. “I see it now. It could have so easily been you if they’d touched the right nerve, but you’re too unpredictable. Brody was the safer bet.”

Sullivan lunged forward again, but Davey was ready this time. He caught him around the chest, shoving him back. “I said stand down!” Then, softer: “Let me handle this. You’re too close.”

When Sullivan turned, Davey was struck by the raw fear and turmoil in the man’s eyes. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Sullivan’s jaw clenched and he pulled back, lifting his hands in a silent surrender.

Davey kept his gaze on Sullivan for a beat longer, making sure he wouldn’t lunge again. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Frost, who was watching the exchange with undisguised glee.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Frost’s smile was all bloody teeth. “Immensely.”

Davey kicked at his chair, tipping it onto its back. “Enough. You have exactly ten seconds to start talking before I decide whether to take you apart piece by piece. Or I can let Sully finish what he started.”

“Fine.” The amusement was still there, but underneath was the sharp, assessing eyes of a predator. “Fine. I’ll be generous. Consider this a freebie.” He smiled over at Sullivan. “Broderick O’Connell is your mole.”

The silence that followed was a black hole—sucking all the air, all the sound, all the sense out of the room.

For a full five seconds, no one moved.

“Bullshit,” Sullivan snarled and yanked the chair upright hard enough to give anyone whiplash.

Frost grunted in pain, but then just shrugged. “I know. Hard to hear, but your twin is a traitor. He’s been working against you this whole time.” He tilted his head toward Davey, lazy, like this wasn’t about to end in blood. “But he sees it, don’t you, Wilde?”

His stomach turned to stone. There it was. The thing he hadn’t wanted to name, hadn’t let himself believe.

And yet…

The second Frost had said it, something deep in his gut had twisted because it made too much sense.

Brody was the mole.

This whole time, he’d been the one pushing the hardest to go after Cade. He knew the evidence would back him up because he’d fucking planted it.

“You son of a bitch,” Davey growled, advancing on Frost. “How long has he been working for you?”

Frost’s smirk widened. “Oh, Brody doesn’t work for me. I’m just the messenger.”

“You’re lying,” Sullivan repeated, but this time his voice was quieter. More desperate.

Frost sighed, shaking his head. “No, Sully. You just don’t want it to be true.”

“Prove it.”

Frost’s smile stretched wider. “Ah. Now you’re thinking.”

Davey had never wanted to hit someone more in his life.

Frost licked the blood from his lip and settled back, in control now. “Here’s the deal. I give you what you need. Brody’s last location. His contacts. His leverage. And in return?” He spread his fingers as best he could against his restraints, like he was about to make the most reasonable offer in the world. “You let me walk.”

Sullivan went still again.

Davey exhaled through his nose in a sound that was almost a laugh of disbelief. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

Frost grinned. “Oh, come on, Davey. You know I’m good for it. Otherwise, you’ll spend weeks chasing the ghost of the twin who doesn’t want to be found. By the time you catch up? Liam’s going to be a corpse and everything will point to him as the mole. It’ll break your Uncle Greer’s heart to lose his first born that way. How is the old man’s heart? Can it handle that?”

Davey’s fists clenched at his sides, every muscle coiled tight with the effort not to lash out. Frost’s words burrowed under his skin like shards of glass, each one a calculated jab designed to provoke a reaction.

Frost leaned forward, the ropes digging into his wrists, leaving his hands a waxy white color. “Tick-tock, Wilde. This is a limited time deal. What’s it going to be?”

Davey’s fingers curled into fists. He could feel the weight of every eye in the room on him.

Sullivan wanted vengeance.

Sabin wanted answers.

Rowan was waiting, watching, calculating.

And Davey fucking hated this. He hated that it was his decision, and hated the fact there was really only one option here that didn’t tear his family apart…

But that same option tore Sully’s family apart. The twins only had each other. But the cold, tactical part of his brain knew Frost was right. They needed the fucker. He knew too much.

“I’m sorry, Sully.” His voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat before nodding to Sabin. “Cut him loose.”

The sound of Sullivan’s breath leaving his lungs was like a gunshot. He didn’t say a word as Sabin pulled out a knife and sliced through the ropes. Didn’t move at first, barely appeared to be breathing. Then he turned and stalked toward the stairs, the metal door slamming against the wall with the force of him yanking it open. His boots hit the concrete stairs with hard, measured steps.

Rowan made to follow, but Davey caught her arm. “Let him go.”

Sabin yanked Frost to his feet. The bastard brushed off his suit and rolled his shoulders like he was getting up from a relaxing spa day.

Then, just for a second, his smirk slipped as the door swung back closed with a resounding clank. It wasn’t much. Just a fraction of hesitation. A crack in the polished mask. “Should probably keep an eye on him. This is going to hurt him more than either of us.”

“What do you care?”

Frost rubbed at his wrists where the rope had cut into them. “I don’t, but if he does something reckless, it could jeopardize our new partnership.”

“This is not a partnership,” Davey said. “Now get out.”

Frost gave an exaggerated bow. “A pleasure, as always.” He turned toward the door, but before he could step away, Davey caught his arm. Frost looked down at his hand, then back up, raising a brow. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could’ve just asked.”

“You might’ve brought yourself some time.” Davey tightened his grip. “But we’re not finished here.”

The smirk didn’t drop completely, but something behind it shifted. The sharp edge of it dulled, replaced with something softer. Something real.

“No,” Frost said, voice quiet but certain. “We’re not.”

Frost pulled his arm free and looked at Sabin, then Rowan. His gaze finally returned to Davey. “Something big is coming, Wilde.” His voice wasn’t mocking now. It was low, even. “And when it does, you’re going to want me as an ally.”

Rowan shifted beside him, eyes narrowing. “Allies are people you can trust.”

“Mostly.” Sabin stopped flipping his damn coin. “But allies can also be secured through mutually assured destruction.”

Frost pointed at him. “He gets it.”

“We’re nothing alike, Frost.”

The smile returned, as quick and sharp as ever. “You only wish that to be true, Cavalier.” He switched to French and said something that had Sabin’s eyes narrowing dangerously.

Jesus. Frost just couldn’t help himself, could he? He had to push everyone’s buttons until he got a reaction.

Davey stepped between them before a fight could break out. He held Frost’s gaze, searching for any hint of deception, but the man’s expression was unreadable. “What’s coming?”

Frost’s lips curved, but the humor was gone. “That would be telling.” He scooped his black hair away from his face, then straightened his jacket, composure firmly back in place. “Let’s just say the world is about to change. And not everyone will survive the shift.”

“Cut the cryptic bullshit,” Rowan snapped. “If you know something?—”

“I know many things, Ms. Bristow,” Frost interrupted smoothly. “But knowledge is power, and I’m not in the habit of giving that away for free.” He glanced at his watch like he was late for a pressing engagement, but when he looked up again, the smug mask slipped completely, revealing something almost... human underneath. “But I will tell you this— there are some things in this world even I wouldn’t sell. And if Praetorian has their way, one of those things will be auctioned very soon. That’s why they want to destabilize Wilde Security. You can stop them. I’m counting on you to stop them because I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sabin demanded.

Frost’s eyes flickered to him, a hint of amusement returning. “Can’t. Won’t. Does it matter? The result is the same.” He turned back to Davey, expression serious now, and with a flick of his wrist, a small data drive appeared between his fingers. “All the data I have on Brody O’Connell. Use it wisely. And now I expect a favor in return.” He tossed the drive, and Davey caught it reflexively.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It is now.”

“And you just happened to have exactly what we needed on you when Sully captured you?” Davey turned the drive over in his hand, then swore softly. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Frost drew a handkerchief from his pocket. “I didn’t expect Sullivan to be quite so…” He winced as he dabbed at his bleeding lip. “ Enthusiastic with his fists, but yes, this was always the plan.”

“You’re a manipulative fuck.”

Frost pocketed the handkerchief and tipped his head in a slight bow. “Thank you.”

He turned to leave, but Rowan’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“Wait.”

Frost paused, eyebrow raised.

Her stance was rigid, but Davey caught the desperation in her eyes—the raw, unguarded fear she rarely let slip. It twisted something deep in his chest. He stepped closer, creating a silent barrier between her and Frost. He wanted to pull her in and shield her from that sharp, knowing gaze that always cut too deep, always found the places that hurt.

“Please,” she said softly. “Just tell me. Rue. Is she safe?”

Something like genuine regret flickered across Frost’s face. “Define safe.”

Rowan took a step forward, fists clenched.

Davey caught her arm before she could get any nearer to Frost, pulling her back against his chest, keeping her from making a mistake she couldn’t take back. She was shaking, not with fear, but with fury.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I know you want to put a few holes in him, but we might still need him.” He looked at Frost again. “Rue is innocent. She’s not an operative. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

He felt Rowan tense under his grip. He could tell she wanted to argue, wanted to say Rue wasn’t helpless. But this wasn’t about whether Rue could handle herself.

It was about whether Frost had decided she was disposable.

Davey’s voice dropped, lethal now. “If she dies because of your manipulations, I’ll give your name to her father. I know you know who Gabe Bristow is.” He took a step closer, forcing Frost to actually meet his gaze. “Do you want him coming after you?”

For the first time, Frost hesitated. His gaze flicked—just briefly—somewhere past Davey’s shoulder like he was actually calculating the risk.

And that told him more than Frost ever would.

“Okay.” Finally, the bastard sighed, rolling his shoulders like he didn’t like the weight of the moment. “You might want to send an operative to Antarctica with her.” That smirk—slow and sharp—slid back into place. “And now, you owe me two favors.”