“You must learn obedience,” the professor said as he snapped the end of his ruler against the edge of Christophe’s desk, his mania concealed behind a smile as the boy jumped in fright.

But even as the threat of what the professor might do to him if he didn’t comply hung over him, Christophe refused to raise the whip he held in his right hand any higher.

Punishment was preferable to what the professor wanted him to do. He couldn’t torture someone as he had been tortured.

But that wasn’t the right word, was it?

The professor liked to call it teaching—he was ensuring they all learned what to expect outside the walls of his school.

Pain.

Betrayal.

Everything he was finding in this school regardless.

Christophe was starting to wonder how long it would take before his insolence resulted in his death. One would think that knowing it was inevitable, he would try to save his own life by doing as he was told.

He wouldn’t.

Christophe was ready to die.

Dropping the whip he held, he faced the professor with a smile of his own, and with every bit of strength his eleven-year-old body could muster, he reared back and kicked the man in his shin, laughing as he did it.

A distant part of him could hear the surprised gasps of his brothers—his fellow prisoners of this school of horrors—but he couldn’t focus on them.

So long as he had the professor’s attention, it would at least be diverted from them.

The last thing Christophe had seen before his head slammed against the floor was the professor’s fist swinging down at his face …

Fang snapped out of the memory, wondering why thoughts of the school had been plaguing him for the last few weeks.

It was often in his dreams that the professor’s smile tormented him the most, or even now, as he drifted away into his thoughts instead of focusing on the two men in front of him.

He had escaped—they all had, really—thanks to Nix and the happenstance of him being in that part of Romania for other business.

Despite his attempts to bury his past to the point that he no longer had to think about it, Fang still thought of that cold, winter night when Nix waged a one-man war on the gated school, sparing no one, save the children.

He had offered them freedom, a chance at a normal life, but the desire for normality had faded to nothing by the time the assassin arrived to free them.

Fang had wanted something else in its place.

He wanted vengeance.

But there was none to be meted out when Nix had killed everyone who had caused so much pain to the boys Fang had learned to care for like siblings.

No, not like siblings, they were his brothers—the few he was willing to give his life for, no questions asked.

And once he accepted a place in the Lotus Society—a secret organization of assassins that he had once belonged to—Nix had taken a spot on the list of people he was willing to die for.

He owed him everything.

So when Nix asked for a favor, there was never any hesitation—except when that favor involved the Kingmaker.

“Sorry,” Fang suddenly announced as he blinked, remembering that he wasn’t alone in the room, and the two Runehart brothers were still seated quietly across from him. “I didn’t hear you.”

Nix didn’t look fazed by the fact that Fang had no idea what he or his brother had said for the last … shit, how long had it been?

Nix was used to him disassociating at random, but the Kingmaker wasn’t, given the expression on his face.

“Is he all there, mentally?” the Kingmaker asked, sparing Fang the briefest of glances. “This is important.”

Fang frowned. “I’m offended.”

“Fang,” Nix said with a warning in his voice—he didn’t look amused.

“Fine,” Fang said with a wave of his hand. “Yes, go on.”

The Kingmaker was the first to speak. “I understand that you and your … team are rather proficient in high-security thefts.”

He made it sound sophisticated. “Yeah, we rob safety-deposit boxes. What of it?”

“We have a job for you and barring the results of it, another might come after,” Kit added.

“This is for him, no?” Fang asked with a nod of his head in the Kingmaker’s direction.

“The job he’s offering is of mutual interest—helping him is helping me.”

Fang rubbed a hand over his jaw, thinking that over. “Right … and what do we get out of this?”

The Kingmaker looked annoyed. Fang hadn’t been around him much over the years despite how long he’d spent with Nix, but he doubted the man had ever been questioned.

“My gratitude.”

Nix said something to the man in Welsh—Fang only picked up on bits and pieces—he had never cared to learn the language—and by the time they finished, it was clear they had reached some sort of agreement.

“Double the usual fee, and a chance to renegotiate once this job is done.”

Double the fee?

Fang, nor his brothers, were bad off—they made significant money from the jobs they pulled with Nix, and coupled with the fact that they all shared a compound as a living space, their expenses were minimum.

But Tăcut often donated ninety-percent of his income to various orphanages—whichever one caught his attention at the moment—and the rest all had their own vices that they spent a fortune on.

Like Thanatos and his penchant for romance novels.

But despite how close they all were, Fang still didn’t know what Invictus did with his cut besides offering tithes to nunneries. He was private that way, and despite how nosy Fang was, he didn’t infringe.

“That works,” he said dropping his hand and drumming his fingers on his knee. “When do we get started?”

“Excellent,” the Kingmaker said as he got to his feet, straightening the front of his jacket. “I’ll expect updates.” This was said to Nix a moment before the man left.

“Was he adopted?” Fang asked, watching the man go. the Kingmaker might have scared the shit out of others, but Fang had met real monsters.

And to him, the Kingmaker was just a dick.

“Unfortunately, no, but our relation aside, you shouldn’t antagonize him.”

“Why? He’ll send one of his mercenaries after me?” Fang smiled with a jerk of his head. “Pretty sure I can take ‘em.”

“That’s not how he works,” Nix said, leveling a stern stare on him—like his fucking father once did. “He would send Luna to put you in line, knowing that I would never let any harm come to her.”

“Pretty sure I could take her too.”

“But you couldn’t take me, and I promise you that you wouldn’t like how I responded if you laid a hand on her.”

The threat was clear in his voice, though there was no malice behind it. It wasn’t idle, Fang knew, but he still found it amusing all the same.

“Duly noted. So what’s the job?”

“You’ll be assisting Luna at a diamond boutique,” Nix said, picking up a thumb drive from a drawer in his desk and tossing it over. “All blueprints can be found on that.”

“What’s my timeline?”

“Seventy-two hours.”

Fang arched a brow at that number. “What’s the security level like?”

“Nothing you can’t handle. I’m still waiting for confirmation on another matter, and should I get it, the security will be nonexistent.”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.” Fang pocketed the device. “Anything else you need?”

“Make sure Luna doesn’t get hurt.”

If there was one thing that had surprised Fang the most since he had come to work for the former assassin was how much the man had changed over the last few years.

He wasn’t a bad boss—a bit of a moody asshole when he wanted to be, but he got worse from Tăcut when he was going through one of his moments. But everything had changed once Luna entered the picture.

That wasn’t to say Fang minded. If anything, he was glad he no longer had Nix riding his ass because he was more preoccupied with his wife, but he was also starting to see the effects of what could happen once you lost the woman you loved.

Aidra … No, he couldn’t imagine losing her. And just the idea of her walking away from him made him antsy.

He loved her, more than he loved himself sometimes because she was the purest thing he had.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Fang said before he could venture too deep into his thoughts.

He knew what Nix felt for his wife—he understood it.

And doing a solid for him was the least he could do after everything Nix had done for him.