“Red has arrived, sir,” Dominic Mantolo said, the sharpness of his accent making his words shorter and crisper. Always the professional, he didn’t linger after he delivered his message, drifting back into the shadows where he could hear, but not be seen.

If there was one man who knew Uilleam’s secrets, it was Dominic.

However, unlike others whose loyalty to Uilleam had been bought, Dominic’s had come after years together. The man had seen him at his lowest point, and now was seeing him at the precipice of something much greater. No, he wasn’t at his highest, not yet.

There was still too much work to be done.

Uilleam gave no outward reaction to the man’s words, continuing to stare over the balcony at the men and women that stood front and center on the stage, their voices carrying in the empty theater. For a long time, he had never understood the allure of the Opera, even with his privileged background. Hearing people sing at the top of their lungs had never appealed to him, but some time ago, his interest had shifted. Now, he had learned to appreciate it for the art it was.

… he had her to thank for that.

Red, a mercenary that was one of many in his arsenal, could be heard before he was seen. Though he had a talent of moving within the shadows, the mercenary made it a habit to blatantly announce his arrival whenever he was in Uilleam’s presence, like he was purposely trying to get under his skin.

But Uilleam didn’t take it as an act of disrespect. Quite the opposite. He was rather amused by him more than anything. He knew Red’s history, had actually known him long before he and the Volkov boy ever crossed paths. That was just the world they lived in.

Information.

If he wanted to be powerful—and that was arguably one of the most important things to him—he had to know more than his competitors did, and more, he had to know as much as possible about any and every one that traveled in the same circles.

Mikhail Volkov had once been a friend—or an associate as it were—and watching his slow and steady descent from the top had been quite fascinating to watch. Now, Mishca reigned in his stead, a boy who, in Uilleam’s eyes, still had a lot of learning to do in business. But what he didn’t know, Uilleam didn’t care to supply him…at least not until he was paid to offer such information.

Red, or Niklaus as was his name, was quite different from the father that birthed him and the brother that shared his DNA. The pair lacked a sort of…viciousness that Red possessed.

Of course, Uilleam couldn’t have known this when he had intercepted the deal between Mikhail and the Albanian mobster by the name of Jetmir Besnik. They had merely wanted to get rid of Mishca for reasons Uilleam had never cared to find out.

It had been far too easy on his part to ensure that it wasn’t Mishca taken by the Albanians, but Red instead.

It had been a coincidence that Uilleam caught sight of Mishca’s twin walking the streets of New York with the woman he fancied.

And it was then, with just a glance, that an alternate plan formulated in his mind, one where he would have Mishca in his debt — he had grown rather skillful at manipulating the events that brought a person into his debt.

All it had taken was a phone call, one carefully orchestrated maneuver that got the Albanians in the right place at the right time.

The rest was child’s play.

Except…he never expected Red to live through it all, nor could he have anticipated just what Red had ultimately become, but all the same, after years in the making, he had exactly what he needed from both Volkov brothers.

Reconciliation.

Yes, he already had Red as a weapon, but now that he was aligned with the Volkov Bratva—an organization that Uilleam had already done a favor for in the past—their loyalty would be to him should he ever have need of it.

And no one was the wiser.

Uilleam didn’t look away from the stage as Red approached from his left, but could practically feel the mercenary’s gaze on him as he took a seat in the only other one available.

“Elias Harrington.”

Uilleam didn’t react to the name because, though he wished otherwise, he had never heard of the man—and there were very few people that he had never come across, especially with the amount of power and influence this man clearly had.

Over two years ago, before this, before he had had a need to call in his debt from Zachariah—the previous owner of the Den—he had been content in the knowledge that he was at the top of the food chain. How quickly he learned otherwise when the one thing in his empty and lonely life that he cared for was taken away from him.

It had taken months to even piece together enough of the trail the man had left behind just to get to this point.

It had taken more than a year just to learn his name.

At least he was one step closer.

“Payment should be posted to your account within the hour. You’ve done good work.”

Unlike so many others that were too afraid to meet his eye, Red did so boldly, making it quite clear that he didn’t trust him.

Uilleam didn’t particularly care for the man’s trust, he only needed his skills.

Perhaps the money he had invested in the team he had cultivated would be worth the money after all.

“I’m taking my leave,” Red said as he stood.

Uilleam didn’t blink. “Permanently?”

Indecision played on his face.

Uilleam could understand why. He had a girlfriend that was pregnant, a one-year-old nephew, and his mother was back in his life. He probably wanted to see them more instead of risking his life.

But sometimes the past had a way of clinging on.

“The next sixteen months, but under the provision that I come on if I’m requested.”

Meaning he would answer only if the order came from him.

Seemed the mercenary had turned over a new leaf.

“I’ll add it to the books.”

Nodding, Red’s eyes shifted to the chessboard that rested between Uilleam and the opposite chair. He probably wondered who Uilleam’s opposition was, but he much preferred to play the game alone, like seeing into his own mind.

No pieces had been moved, the board still untouched.

It only remained that way, however, until Red rounded the corner and disappeared.

Once he was out of sight, Uilleam shifted forward in his seat, picking up one of the crystal pawns and moved it forward two spaces.

It was time.

The game was on.