There were some places that, no matter how much time had passed, were haunted by the ghosts of years past.

The Runehart estate was one such place, and it didn’t hold fond memories for Kit Runehart, even if it was his childhood home—or rather because it was his childhood home.

Days and nights had been spent cowering in fear, wondering when the next punishment would come or when the next ‘game’ would start.

That was what his father liked to call them—his games.

Alexander Runehart wasn’t used to things not going the way he wanted, and when he was in a particular mood, he liked to challenge others around him just to figure out if they were as smart or as dumb as he thought they were.

It wasn’t as simple as a round of chess or an attempt at strategy—that was far too easy.

No, he wanted to make sure his opponents could hold their own.

And in his warped mind, his best opponents were the boys that he, also in his own mind, had loved and raised to become mirror images of himself.

Kit, as the oldest, had suffered the most under the hand of his father. There was a level of greatness that came with being the eldest. He was to be groomed to take over the family business, but even in his early fifties, Alexander hadn’t been ready to hand over the reins to his empire nor did he plan to make it easy for Kit to acquire.

No, he had to complete the tests first.

Tests that would ensure he knew just how to deal with the men and women he would one day cross because of the name he bore.

Once, Kit had wanted the job, had wanted to prove his worth to his father, but as he grew older and more scars decorated his flesh, Kit learned there was no pleasing a man like Alexander.

Perfection was unattainable, and he didn’t intend on killing himself to try to prove himself.

That was why when he was first made the offer by Zachariah, he had mulled the decision over in his head. It hadn’t been one that came easily to him nor had it been one that he immediately agreed to.

As always, his father had made the decision for him without ever uttering yes or no.

---

He could feel the ache in his bones—the way his skin felt too tight in certain places. It was a pain he had grown all too familiar with even as he was only fifteen years of age. But that felt like a lifetime ago—as though he had lived well beyond his years.

But Kit didn’t bemoan his fate.

He didn’t cry for the constant agony he was in.

He bore it because that was what men did, and despite what his father liked to think of him, he was nothing if not resilient.

Echoing chimes sounded throughout the castle, making Kit’s eyes dart to the door before they went back to the ceiling well above his head. It was his new favorite pastime when he was home from boarding school. It was what kept him sane.

A sad fact that a boy could only find enjoyment in darkness and silence.

He could hear the servants moving with a purpose outside his bedroom door, but he wasn’t keen on going out to check on what they were doing. If someone needed him—and he really hoped they didn’t—they would have to come and get him.

Earlier, he had made the mistake of venturing outside of his bedroom, just to have a look around since he had only been home a few days and things always changed when he was away at boarding school. He’d barely been out there more than a handful of minutes before one of his father’s men had caught sight of him and informed his father.

The punishment for walking around aimlessly? Grueling exercise that had left his body weak. His arms still shook when he raised them.

No, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Closing his eyes, Kit tried to distance himself, not just from his bed but from his body as well, envisioning being anywhere but here.

He had always had dreams of traveling the world, of getting away from Wales and the hell that welcomed him when he was here. But he had no money, and without his father’s aid, he had no means of getting away.

It was all just a dream.

A dream that he longed for and craved, but one that he couldn’t nourish because it was impossible.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kit opened his eyes once more, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he prepared to get up, but was brought up short when he heard voices, louder this time, outside his door.

His heart skipping a beat, he tried to mentally prepare himself, push the pain he was already in to the back of his mind. That way, the fresh agony he was sure he would suffer wouldn’t add to what he was feeling.

Only seconds later, the door came swinging open and in the threshold stood Alexander, barrel chest covered by a fine gray sweater, his dark hair gelled into place. It made the planes of his face stand out more, all sharp lines and contours.

But, it was to the man behind him that Kit directed his gaze—and it was the sight of him that had Kit exhaling in relief.

Zachariah Runehart didn’t often spend time at Runehart Castle—he and his brother rarely saw eye to eye on most matters. They were polar opposites in every regard—particularly with their business practices and the way they handled their children.

His uncle had had a son and a daughter, though both had died tragically on their sixteenth birthday for reasons Kit didn’t know.

No one in the family talked about it, and Kit wouldn’t be the one to ask.

Since the accident, as his father liked to call it, Zachariah had taken an interest in Kit and Uilleam, but because of Alexander’s temperament, he was only ever allowed to see Kit for any extended period of time.

He was to teach him discipline and respect, both of which Zachariah had in spades, but despite his request, Alexander didn’t particularly like the two of them spending so much time together anymore.

While he had a terrible temper, Alexander also had a jealous streak that could get particularly ugly.

Kit hurried to his feet, standing with his feet together, shoulders squared, and head held high as his father entered the room first, quickly followed by his uncle. Though he waved his hand, a silent command that meant Kit could stand down, he didn’t dare budge.

“Zachariah wanted to speak with you,” Alexander said in that brusque way of his that had Kit’s gaze darting back and forth between the pair of them. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Though he started back for the door, his gaze told Kit that he would be expecting answers on his return.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, Zachariah removed his hat, holding it against his chest as he surveyed the room with a twist of his head. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Two years,” Kit said immediately, his guard lowering only slightly.

While he didn’t have to be the perfect little soldier that his father preferred when he was around his uncle, he was never completely comfortable with letting his guard down altogether. He was too used to his father’s spontaneous appearances.

“Have you been counting?” Zachariah asked with a half-smile, one that was knowing but nonjudgmental.

“Was there something you needed from me?” Kit asked instead of answering his question, though he didn’t think it was possible for the man to want anything, not when he was hardly around as it was.

This was probably another test, one impossible to pass, though he hoped he would.

“What has Alexander told you of what I do?” Zachariah asked.

“Nothing.”

“Not surprising—he never had an eye for it, after all. He likes to call it blood work, you know. In his mind, he can always hire someone to kill a man, but it takes a special skill to manipulate events that lead to a man’s death.”

Kit had long since realized that it ran in the Runehart bloodline to speak in codes and riddles, making it nearly impossible to follow what they were saying unless you were paying close attention.

“What are you saying?”

“How would you like to leave this place?”

No other words had ever made him feel quite so warm inside, as though a fire had started burning inside of him and he was close to combusting. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than that.

But he knew that could never happen, not when his father refused to let him do anything he didn’t approve of. “What are you talking about?”

“I have an opportunity for you—one I think you will appreciate.”

Kit studied him. “What is it?”

“Has your father ever told you about the Lotus Society?”

“No …”

“It’s a private organization that specializes in recruiting those who can perform certain tasks that others may not be comfortable with.”

That sounded rather ambiguous, but something about it intrigued him. “What role do you play?”

“Recruiter, mostly. Sometimes trainer, depending on what’s needed.”

“But what exactly would you be recruiting me for?” Kit asked, finding he had far more questions with every bit of information Zachariah supplied.

“The question is, are you interested.”

Kit still knew nothing about the Lotus Society or even what his uncle did there, but if there was a chance that he could leave this hell behind and be free of the people who constantly hurt him, he would much rather be in a place he didn’t know than the one he did.

“What about my school?”

“I’ll take care of that. Worry about packing your things.”

“My father isn’t just going to let me go,” Kit said. “Even for you.”

“Let me handle Alexander. I’ve always had a way of bending his will.”

Kit wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t argue as his uncle left the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

Despite his telling him to pack, Kit remained exactly where he was, waiting with bated breath for his uncle to come back … or his father. Depending on how their conversation went, there was no telling which of the two would be coming through that door.

He only hoped it wasn’t his father.

Kit didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the solid wood, but when he heard the raised voices coming from the other side once more, his fear renewed.

A part of him was tempted to run, to hide somewhere his father wouldn’t find him, but that only ever made the punishments worse, ensuring that his father beat him within an inch of his life.

No, he remained rooted in place and waited.

If he was going to be beaten, he would take it like a man and not complain.

Or cry.

Or make a sound.

He’d learned this particular lesson the hard way.

The door came flying open, slamming into the wall so hard that the sound echoed throughout the room, but Kit didn’t flinch.

“What’s this I hear about you wanting to leave?” Alexander asked with wild eyes, but there wasn’t fury in his gaze. There was hurt. “Have I not done well by you?”

That was the thing about Alexander Runehart—the man thought what he subjected people to was anything but torment.

His lessons, as he liked to say.

In his own twisted mind, he was doing them a favor.

Kit especially.

“I—”

“They have to grow up at some point,” Zachariah spoke up, folding his arms across his chest. “You can’t shelter them forever.”

The way that Zachariah said this made Kit wonder if he really meant to say that, or perhaps, he was projecting his own thoughts.

“Then let’s hear it,” Alexander demanded, stepping even closer to Kit to the point of purposely invading his personal space. “If you want to leave, then you hold your head up like a man and you say it. There won’t be anyone to coddle you, boy. You walk out these doors, and you lose everything.”

Meaning his money and protection, and everything that came with being a Runehart.

Kit would gladly give up both. “I want to leave.”

The shock on his father’s face as he got his answer was almost as good as the feeling of triumph swept through Kit as he watched his father have to accept what he didn’t want.

But now that the offer was made, he wouldn’t take it back—he was a man of his word.

“Get out,” he snarled, looking at him in disgust.

Zachariah nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Kit, pack your—”

“He takes nothing but the clothes on his back. And by the time I step foot back in this room, he’d better be gone.”

Alexander swept out in an angry flurry, eyes narrowed and disbelieving. He also didn’t seem to notice Uilleam’s presence in the doorway.

His brother was rather good at that—being invisible in plain sight. Moving silently and making sure he went unnoticed—it was a trait Kit had never seemed to master.

“We should go,” Zachariah suggested. “It’s better this way.”

He was out of the room next, but he didn’t pretend not to see Uilleam. He rested a hand on top of his strawberry-blonde hair before disappearing around the corner.

Kit barely spared the room a glance before he was leaving it as well. It didn’t hold any good memories for him. It wasn’t a place he ever wanted to see again.

“Are you going somewhere?” Uilleam asked, his voice an octave higher than he probably meant it to be.

Kit wasn’t the only one learning lessons in what it meant to be a man. “I am.”

“Then take me with you.”

Kit blinked, looking at his younger brother.

Uilleam had always been better when it came to dealing with their parents. He knew how to play the part. He knew what it took to survive.

Kit, on the other hand, was a different kind of survivor, but he had yet to learn how to play the game. He just accepted the punishment, whatever it was.

“I can’t, and you know this as well as I do.”

Uilleam didn’t show weakness—not anymore. He was very careful with the emotions he displayed and the way he responded to stimuli.

Truthfully, Kit hadn’t expected him to react to the news of him leaving the castle at all, but now that he had … he could see the fear in his eyes, the worry, but he didn’t know whether it was for himself or Kit.

“You’ll be fine,” Kit promised, resting a hand on his shoulder as Zachariah had always done to him.

Uilleam had never been one for affection, rather detested it actually. Once, he had loved being under Kit, following him around wherever he went, but after this last time he’d gone, once Kit came home, Uilleam hadn’t been the same.

Uilleam gazed at him, unblinking, and with a single shake of his head, he started down the hallway without ever looking back.

---

Kit, to this day, still didn’t know what that look had meant, but he did know that Uilleam had suffered because of his absence. In some regard, he had been selfish to leave his brother there, but he hadn’t thought that with him gone, Alexander would then offer his undivided attention to Uilleam, especially with their mother there to play interference.

But despite what he didn’t know, Kit doubted he would ever get answers—not when their parents were dead, and Uilleam refused to ever think about his years there, let alone talk about them.

Once, the Runehart estate had been in ruins—an abandoned castle that once belonged to a forgotten king—until his father restored it to its former glory, spending well over a fortune to ensure that it reflected what it had once been.

As a child, Kit hadn’t understood the significance of repairing a musty old place that he would have much rather never seen again a day in his life, but as he aged and grew to appreciate fine architecture and the luxuries that money could buy him, he finally understood what his father was doing.

It was their legacy, Alexander had said with a sharp shake of his head, as though Kit had argued the point with him—but he could have very well been bantering with one of the people who lived inside the man’s head.

Kit could count on one hand the number of days he found pleasant in that house, and by the time he was fifteen and off to the Lotus Society for training, he hadn’t bothered to count anymore.

None were worth remembering.

Before he’d gone, Kit hadn’t known what the Lotus Society was or what it meant to be a part of it. He had only known it offered a freedom he was happy to accept if it meant he could escape and never come back.

To this day, he had never returned—until now, when he’d had no other choice.

Tucked behind iron gates and a stone exterior, his brother was tucked away within the castle’s walls, unaware Kit was driving up the cobblestone toward the fountain that had frozen over during the cold, winter night. Under the cover of gray skies, the estate looked more formidable and less welcoming.

Leaving his phone behind—he didn’t need the distraction—Kit retrieved his coat first before starting inside, mindful of the blurred shapes on the rooftops. It wasn’t a surprise Uilleam had brought extra security with him, especially after the attempts on his life, but what surprised him was how very few there were.

Despite Kit’s disdain for this place, he had held onto a number of the keepsakes that had once graced it—including the various portraits of notable Runeharts that hung along the walls of his château.

He didn’t know why he favored them, why they had mattered to him at all really, but since he and his brother were two of the last Runeharts living, he liked to remember his family if he could.

On a whim, he’d had one made of himself when he was twenty-five and one for Uilleam as well—though his brother had made it a point to remove it from his home during one of his bouts of anger toward him.

As Kit entered, he expected the same rigorous upkeep Alexander had been infamous for, but instead, he found a shell of the castle’s former glory.

He couldn’t see any furniture, no artwork and gold flaked decorations hanging from the walls. No tapestries and expensive vases that held the day’s fresh flowers. No, he found crumbling walls, dust covered shelves, and cracked flooring.

Kit wasn’t even sure the place was safe to walk in, let alone live in.

Deciding it was best not to linger, he didn’t bother to pause to look into his old room, wondering if it would look the same, nor did he care to examine the portrait of his father that still hung in the great room with what suspiciously looked like bullet holes through it before he was finding his way into the office on the main floor.

The only place Uilleam could possibly be.

As he had expected, his brother sat inside, transfixed by the fire before him as the flames danced and lit up his otherwise dark gaze. For once, he looked to be in a somber mood—lost in his thoughts. But he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice Kit’s entry.

Uilleam had always been a rather open book, willing to share and uncaring of the emotion he displayed. When his brother’s eyes cut to him, Kit saw nothing but malice and contempt. “I told them to shoot you on sight. Yet here you are.”

Kit shrugged, just a casual lift of his shoulder as he claimed the seat opposite him. “Stronger men than you have tried to kill me. If I wasn’t able to evade your pathetic excuses for security, I would be a dead man.”

Having spent the last decade accumulating enemies over the course of his life within, and outside, of the Lotus Society, plenty attempts had been made on his life.

“In a mood still?” Uilleam asked with a bored lift of his brow. “Let’s reconvene in the morning—I don’t think I’m in the mood for your dramatics tonight.”

“Thoughts of Karina keeping you awake at night?” Kit asked, recognizing his distant, almost haunted look.

He imagined he’d looked the same when Luna left him. It had almost felt like he had a hole in his chest that couldn’t be filled.

And if he were honest, very few could put that look on his brother’s face—there weren’t many people he cared for in this world.

Kit knew what it felt like to love and lose someone, but unlike his brother, he still had the chance to fix his mistakes.

I want you to fix it, Luna had said with tears in her eyes—the only thing he had ever needed from her—permission.

Permission to touch her.

Permission to kill for her.

Permission to love her—though, he had never needed her permission for that.

“If there was ever a time when I wanted you to stop talking, it would be now. Besides, where is your army?” Uilleam asked, making a show of looking around. “The last time we spoke, you promised a war. Can’t have a war if it’s just you, can we?”

“I’ve only just learned my grievances with you were unfounded.”

Now, Uilleam looked a mix between curious and amused. “Are you actually admitting you were wrong about something? Now, I’m curious why you’re here.”

“You didn’t tell Luna about my involvement with her being given to Lawrence Kendall.”

Uilleam’s face screwed up in annoyance. “Is that what your grievance was? How on earth could you make it through counseling—your methods of communication are severely lacking.”

Luna had said something similar.

It was something he had heard all his life.

The muscle in Kit’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “Let’s not act as if you don’t make a living disrupting people’s lives.”

“But only on my terms. Luna would have found out the truth about her family in time—I had already accounted for that—but your actions caused things to get beyond my control.”

Of course, his brother wouldn’t find fault in his actions. Knowing him, he had probably already allotted time for Luna to grieve once she learned the truth.

Then again, Uilleam rarely found fault in his own actions, preferring to cast the blame on anyone other than himself.

But he wasn’t there to argue that point with him—he knew it was something that would never change.

Luna knowing wasn’t going to change the past but finding out how could change the present.

“There would be no reason for me to tell her, considering I was trying to cover it up,” Kit said, making sure to stress what he was saying and trying to penetrate the drunken fog Uilleam seemed to be under.

But the alcohol had muddled his brother’s brain making him slow on the uptake. Rubbing his brow, Uilleam squeezed his eyes shut. “What are you getting at?”

“If you didn’t tell her, as I’d originally believed, and I didn’t either—then who told her?”

The hand he’d been using to rub circles above his eyebrow froze, and finally, it seemed as though Uilleam was catching on.

Over the course of their session with Dr. Marie, Kit didn’t expect to be surprised by anything Luna would share—he wasn’t clueless as to why she left him. Even if he didn’t like it, he could still understand why she’d done it.

But he had been surprised when she mentioned Belladonna—a name he wasn’t familiar with, and that alone was more shocking than anything.

Kit knew more people than he didn’t.

He could even name the owner of shell companies covered in enough obscurity it would take years before a name would be found.

But Belladonna?

He knew nothing.

If there was one thing Kit was sure of, he knew how much Uilleam valued his privacy and anonymity above all else. And despite his predilection for boasting, what happened with Luna was not a thing to be prideful about.

He wouldn’t have shared something so private with a virtual stranger, especially with Kit’s involvement.

Would he have gone to Luna himself? Yes.

Would he have set up an elaborate scheme to ensure that Luna knew what had happened to her? Absolutely.

But he would never allow someone else to do his dirty work for him.

Even as he saw the wheels turning in Uilleam’s head, Kit said, “I have a question for you.”

“Then ask,” he responded rather impatiently.

“Who told you that Karina was dead?”

It was rare that Uilleam was ever struck mute. He had an answer for everything, even when there couldn’t possibly be one.

But just her name had that effect on him.

The woman he’d loved and lost.

That, too, was something Kit had never understood before Luna.

Several years ago, before Luna had ever come into the picture and before Kit had left the Lotus Society, Uilleam had fallen in love.

Truthfully, Kit had never thought him capable of the emotion, not in the freely offered sense. He might have favored Kit, treated him better than he did most even, but Kit had always thought it was out of some sort of familial obligation.

But Karina Ashworth—no, Uilleam had completely and irrevocably loved her.

As beautiful as she had been young, she was taken rather viciously from this world, and neither of them had any idea why.

Kit had only met her on a few occasions, and from what he could make of the reporter, he could understand, though not completely, why his brother had been so taken with the woman.

She had a kind smile, delicate features, and a sharp intellect that surprised him.

It didn’t matter though what Kit saw or didn’t in Karina, though, because Uilleam had thought the world of her—still did, despite her death.

Kit remembered his brother’s grief far too well—it had been the first time in years that he had seen him look so broken for so long, and if her name was even uttered in his presence, he was prone to violent outbursts that never ended well for anyone around him.

But Kit couldn’t concern himself with that, not if he was right in his assumption.

“No.” The word was as much a warning as it was a statement. Uilleam no longer had the slight drowsiness to his words—they were sharp and direct. “There was a body.”

“A journalist, wasn’t she?” Kit kept on, mindful that his brother’s temper was rising. “You once told me of the investigation that had spurred your interest in her. Death by the poison belladonna, wasn’t it?”

Kit didn’t remember all the details—it had been a long time ago after all—but he had remembered that tiny detail like a fleeting thought in the back of his head the first time Luna said the woman’s name.

That, coupled with his knowledge of just who Uilleam would have confided in during that time had brought his mind around to the one woman who had seemed to disappear without any answers.

It seemed, he had found one.

Plus, she had been an investigative journalist that sought the truth—to vindicate the victims, as she’d once said.

Kit couldn’t think of a better candidate than Luna.

“Luna told me she’d taken a job around the time you were shot, says the client’s name was Belladonna,” Kit supplied. “She was too furious with me to question it at the time, but she didn’t understand the significance. I took it upon myself to spend the last three nights looking into her, and yet I’ve found nothing—she doesn’t exist. So tell me, brother, how can someone who doesn’t exist manage to fool you enough to accept a contract?”

Uilleam’s gaze was distant as he disappeared into his own head for a moment. “I wasn’t behind the contracts at that time—Zachariah was.”

And because of a deal gone wrong that ultimately resulted in the man’s death, there was no way they could learn the truth as to why Zachariah had taken the contract.

What role had their uncle played in this?

“But it doesn’t matter,” Uilleam said with a sharp shake of his head. “I saw the body.”

Such vehement denial yet Kit could see the hint of disbelief Uilleam was trying very hard to conceal. “Then you’re not the only one playing a game, brother.”

Uilleam was quiet a moment, staring at him as though trying to gauge whether he was serious. He didn’t want to believe what Kit was implying, that was obvious, though Kit hadn’t expected otherwise.

“What are you suggesting?” Uilleam asked, sitting up a little straighter, his thumb tapping away against the side of the chair he sat in. “You believe Karina confided in this Belladonna woman?”

“No,” Kit said carefully. “I believe Karina and Belladonna are one and the same.”

Now, Uilleam was starting to understand exactly what Kit was trying to tell him, but he didn’t look pleased with the allegation.

“Have you heard a word I’ve been saying? I saw the body.”

“Then it’s simple. Give me whatever file you have at the Den on her, and I’ll look into it myself.”

“You know my files are confidential.”

“They’ve never been that way for me.”

“They’ve always been that way for you.”

“Are you afraid of the truth?” Kit asked.

“There is no truth,” Uilleam shot back. “Is this repayment for Luna leaving you? As you’ve said, that had nothing to do with me.”

Kit was starting to believe it wasn’t that Uilleam didn’t believe what he was saying—he didn’t want it to be true. “What would it hurt?”

Uilleam exploded out of his chair, running his fingers through his short hair as he paced in front of the fire. “Let’s say you’re right—though I highly believe the opposite—what do you expect to do once you find her? Confront her about faking her death? Hurt her for revealing a truth you were trying to bury? What?”

The way he spoke, with a slightly mocking air, told Kit that Uilleam didn’t truly believe that Karina was alive. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked that at all. Because if he truly believed she was, Uilleam would stop at nothing short of violence should anyone, including Kit, mean that woman harm.

“That isn’t the question, is it? The question is what else did you tell Karina about me? If, for the sake of argument, Karina really is dead, then that can only mean that she confided in someone else, and that someone isn’t just targeting me, they also have a vendetta against you.”

His suspicion didn’t stop at Belladonna—if that was what Karina was going by now—having only told Luna the truth about her abduction. It could have also meant she was the one behind Uilleam’s shooting.

The Jackal’s strings were being held fast by someone, and the arrows were quickly pointing in her direction.

Kit no longer believed it was just Elias.

“You have to consider the Jackal—”

“The assassin who can’t be found,” Uilleam said frowning. “Shouldn’t you be on the up and up when it comes to them?”

Kit arched a brow. “I should know about your enemy’s leashed dog? He’s more myth than anything. Had you not bore evidence of his existence, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Elias—”

“Don’t be daft, brother. We both know that should he have control over the Jackal, he would have used him again.”

Uilleam laughed, but it sounded pained. “What are you saying? Karina—or your Belladonna—sent her attack dog after me.”

“I don’t know anything until I can look into it.”

He was silent a moment before he finally gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll get you the file, but I can assure you that nothing will come of it. She was … I guess it doesn’t really matter what she was, does it?” Uilleam dropped back into his seat. “Tell me, how was your counseling session with Luna? Informative, I hope.”

Of course, his brother knew about that—he wouldn’t have his title if he didn’t keep up with everyone else’s lives. “It was.”

“Getting back on the right track, then?”

“Why are you asking?”

Uilleam’s frown grew more pronounced. “You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know.”

Kit wouldn’t rise to that bait. “Why do you ask?”

“Because plans have changed, brother.”

“Have they?”

“Elias requested a meeting with me.”

That was news to Kit.

For all he knew, Elias had made it a point to avoid Uilleam, if only to keep his word that so long as Kit played along, he would leave his family unharmed.

“What for?”

“He wanted to call a truce,” Uilleam said, a hint of the infamous Kingmaker bleeding into his words. “It seems Carmen has acquired a bit of protection for the time being—one that circumvents both you and I. He’s asked that Luna remains clear of her so as not to ruin the scam they have going.”

Luna’s mother, Carmen Rivera, was a woman Kit would gladly kill in a heartbeat if given the opportunity. Not only for what she had done to Luna—using her as a pawn for Uilleam to manipulate—but for what she had done to scores of other girls like her.

Despite the human activist title and her constant donations to various charities around the world, Carmen was a renowned madam, gladly trading in flesh and offering ‘her girls’ to whoever could afford to pay her prices.

She made the Kendall family look like saints.

Kit wouldn’t blink at putting a bullet in her head, not when the woman deserved it.

“Interesting,” Kit said as he regarded his brother. “I wasn’t aware you had a meeting with Elias.”

“Keep up, brother.”

Elias had specifically forbidden Kit from ever mentioning their initial meeting with Uilleam, but not with Luna—it was for that reason he had finally told her during the session. Not just because it was time for her to know the truth behind his actions, but so that he could control her reaction to it as well.

But now that Elias had done most of the work for him, he had no reason to keep it to himself any longer. “Then perhaps it’s time I told you my side.”

Kit didn’t give him a chance to respond before he was telling him about his first meeting with Elias, and the one that followed. He told him of the man’s threats, the security he had, and how, at the time, Kit had been out of options and hadn’t seen a way out.

He watched as Uilleam’s face changed with each truth he told until, finally, his expression settled into one that was very familiar to him.

Uilleam studied him a moment before saying, “You wouldn’t be telling me this if you didn’t have a reason.”

Kit nodded. “There’s a reason for everything I do.”

“I’ve already signed a contract with her—I’m nothing if not a man of my word,” Uilleam said with an absent shrug of his shoulder.

“And I don’t need you to breach it.”

“You obviously have something else in mind.”

“I do, but I’ll need your assistance.”

That key had been missing the entire time, one he had refused to acknowledge.

They were capable of great things individually, but if they worked together, they were unstoppable.

Uilleam sat forward with a smile—the first genuine one he had offered all night. “Are you offering me a job, brother? It’s been a while since I was tempted.”

“As I’ve done many others,” Kit said.

“What do I get in return?”

Money held no value to either of them, not when they had enough to last them multiple lifetimes. “Vengeance.”

“Go on then,” Uilleam said, sitting back in his chair as though he sat on a throne. “Tell us your plan.”

No longer was it brother to brother, Kit to Uilleam.

Sitting next to that fire, as he spoke of an idea that had been brewing inside him for the last eighteen months, it was Nix talking to the Kingmaker.