Aleck Trevyn loathed to hear a man beg.

Especially an evil man.

Where was the dignity, the pride, the fortitude to go out with some modicum of self-respect?

He brought up his wrist to look at his coveted limited edition Audemars Piguet watch, with a perpetual calendar and split-second chronograph.

Two days, seven hours, and nineteen minutes.

That was how long it took to break Jerome Peters, aka White Suit, who was strapped to a folding chair, sweating and begging behind him. The man’s stench was unbearable.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Jerome groaned.

Aleck flicked open the final metal case with his latex-gloved hands. While unfeeling and composed on the outside, on the inside, he was nothing short of elated that he’d been able to extract information so many would be shocked to hear: direct evidence that Marex Daulton was innocent.

A month ago, Fitz McEvoy had contacted him, after being tortured and nearly killed by Peters. Aleck readily accepted the contract once he learned every vile fact about his target. After a little reconnaissance, he kidnapped Jerome from his house and took him to a vacant farm outside of the capital.

One wouldn’t know by looking at him that he’d been tortured. Aleck had taken specific measures so it wouldn’t be obvious to the naked eye what happened to his victim, nor would the filth have the capacity to utter a word of what was done to him, or the secrets he’d revealed.

As Aleck drew out a needled syringe and uncapped it, he heard Jerome struggle behind him to break free of the zip-ties. “Listen, if you kill me, you’ll make enemies you didn’t know existed! Don’t be stupid!” he shouted hoarsely, proving how much screaming he’d been exerting on his throat.

Aleck flicked the base of the syringe and turned around. “You’d be missed, Mr. Peters. Of that I have no doubt. You have connections in the underworld that impress even me, and your death investigated. That is why I’m not going to kill you.”

Rivulets of sweat ran from Jerome’s bald head down to his ruddy cheeks, saliva spirting out of the corners of his catfish-like lips. His bloodshot, bug eyes shot to the needle. “Then what’s that? Are you going to knock me out and throw me into the woods naked so that I’ll be hunted down by shifters and mauled to death in order to cover your tracks?”

The scenario was so absurd and detailed, Aleck nearly laughed out loud. “That is actually a brilliant idea. But I’m not in the business of framing innocent immortals. Even if the thought of you getting mauled by them is inspiring.”

“Name your price! I’ll give you anything! I swear I…please, let me go.”

“I will.”

Aleck had zero sympathy. By all accounts, even without the elaborate frame-up he’d contrived for Marex, Jerome Peters deserved this ending. With very little research, Aleck had learned Jerome had been accused of sexually assaulting multiple young girls and women, financially supported hate groups, and maintained a slumlord reputation, ripping off his tenants to his benefit. To Aleck, he was nothing more than a walking pile of shit.

“You’ll burn, vampire!” Jerome yelled as Aleck stepped closer. “They won’t let you get away with this!”

“Well, whether or not I ‘get away’ with this, you’ll have paid the price, and so it’ll be worth it. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be in bed, comfortable and clueless, drooling on your own pillow.” Literally. If his servants got to him on time, he’d live. If they didn’t…shrug.

“What are you going to do? What is that?” he cried.

“A maniacal little cocktail of methamphetamine, cocaine, and one or two other stimulants to induce a stroke. You’ll either be a slobbering vegetable or a muttering invalid. Either way, you won’t be touching innocent girls, torturing my friends, or abusing your power for a pointless war. Your time is done.” He went around Jerome’s back.

Jerome went wild. “Stop! Please!”

Oh gods, more begging. The villain within smiled. “Hush now.”

“You fucking—”

Aleck covered Jerome’s mouth one hand, quieting his noises and holding his head still. With satisfaction, he slowly sank the needle in the man’s fat neck. Seconds later, Jerome’s struggles ceased, as did the screaming. Aleck closed his eyes and inhaled, eyes glowing with his exhale.

One less pedophile in the world, his villain drawled.

He dragged the unconscious man from the storm shelter to Jerome’s Cadillac and placed him in the backseat. He threw his belongings in the truck, and when he slammed the door down, huffed at the vanity plate that read: LOLATU.

He went back and tidied up the piss, saliva, and whatever juices Jerome had leaked on the floor. The place was cleaner than how he’d found it. He doubted anyone would be coming to this abandoned farm anytime soon, let alone suspect what had occurred in the spider-infested shelter.

It’d take him approximately fifty-seven minutes to get to Jerome’s house in D.C. to drop him off, then about fifteen hours and twenty or so minutes to get to his parent’s house in Louisiana, with stops in between for fuel and a hotel room to avoid the cursed sun.

With a one-minute earlier arrival time than he’d estimated, he used Jerome’s remote to open the gate and pulled into the driveway with the car’s lights turned off. The house was obnoxiously large for someone who wasn’t married with a family, and in Aleck’s opinion, needed to be burned to its foundation. But that wasn’t something Fitz had requested. After all, the staff within these walls needed jobs, and perhaps now they would be infinitely easier jobs with their lecherous employer permanently disabled.

Aleck stopped the car beside the front steps and opened the back passenger door.

He gripped the lapels of Jerome’s suit jacket and moved him to the driver side, situating him so it would appear as though he’d driven himself home. Putting the car’s gear in neutral, he shut the door and lightly pushed the vehicle forward.

The cameras would see nothing of Aleck; he’d maneuvered them just right the night he kidnapped Peters. Only Jerome’s Cadillac grill would be captured, him slumped over the steering wheel, victim of a stroke. It’d appear he’d partied too hard, and had paid a dire price.

Aleck turned and strode across the lawn, a corner of his mouth lifting. Stripping off the latex gloves, he heard the sound of a planter crumbling. Moments after that, the front door lights came on.

He disappeared through the trees, not bothering to look back.

This time tomorrow, he’d be home.

The next evening, he eased his SUV toward the familiar wrought-iron gates with an ornate T emblem in the middle, covered in creeping plants.

He reached out the window and entered in the six-digit code. The gates whined, then laboriously parted, their resident vines tearing apart, proving not one visitor had come to the house in months.

Frowning, he eased into the long driveway. His parents and staff must’ve been using the back entry to come and go, if at all. Lately, they had everything delivered. The gates had given the impression of a neglected property, but within them, the landscape and exterior showcased diligent upkeep.

After parking, he unlocked and opened the front door, barely making it in two steps before he was greeted by the houseman.

“How was the drive, Aleck?” Dennis approached with an old fashioned cocktail.

It always amazed him how his parent’s long-time employee knew exactly what he wanted upon arrival.

He accepted the glass with gratitude, much needed. “Long. Thank you, Dennis.”

Next to the umbrella stand was a basket stuffed with envelopes. All unopened, and for good reason, each likely spewed the same censure and hate as the dozens and dozens before them.

Would the harassment never end? Aleck sighed. “Where are they?”

“On the veranda.”

Gerard and Lilith Trevyn were partaking in their nightly ritual, his mother was lounging on the chaise, draped in her beloved Valentino silk wrap. Her favorite diamond ring glittered in the torchlight as she rubbed her arms as though chilled. His father stood with a cigar in one hand, a glass of port in the other, looking up at the moon, dressed in his usual waistcoat and trousers.

How many times had Aleck walked out to that exact same scene?

They didn’t look up or turn around until he stepped outside, and it saddened him. A mere decade ago they would’ve smelled him coming from the front steps. Though they appeared to be no older than their late forties, they were over six-hundred years old combined, and were physically aging more every year, as all vampire parents had to succumb to eventually.

“Aleck.” His mother grinned, reaching out her hand.

He bent down and let her cup his face briefly. “Mother.”

“Goodness, don’t look so serious,” she said, patting his cheek. “You’re too handsome not to smile more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded as he took a chair from the patio set. “Father.”

Gerard lifted his glass of port.

Lilith pouted. “We’re leaving for Cresley in two night’s time. Did your father tell you? We weren’t supposed to leave for a month, but that was cancelled,” his mother complained. “Couldn’t you have come any sooner to spend more time with us, Aleck? Atlanta isn’t that far away.”

Feeling guilty, he shook his head. She was much less forgiving these days now that his brother wasn’t around anymore to check in on them. “I’m sorry. I was running around trying to get your passage expedited.”

“That was your doing?” she accused.

He glanced at his father, who chose to respond.

“It was mine, dearest.”

Lilith looked to her pürist in surprise. “But why?”

“You know why.” Gerard’s deep voice softened. “It’s not safe.”

Understanding dawned on Lilith’s face, along with acute sadness, but as always, she strove to recover before anyone thought her weak or incapable of handling bad news. “What about this auction, hmm? Do you really think it’s worth your time?”

“And your money?” his father added with his predictable cynicism.

Aleck had been prepared to defend his decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have told his parents, but he’d decided to be transparent about it, since their future was as much at stake as his. “It’ll be worth both if I find someone to accompany me. If you two want to go instead, I won’t argue with you. You know the Centurias is easier to navigate with a companion.”

Much easier. There were certain events vampires weren’t even allowed without a vampiress at their side, which would be wasted opportunities remedied simply with a plus-one. He thought it was a somewhat unnecessary rule, but it had been put in place eight centuries ago so that men and women had equal voices at the Centurias. A female Vesser had insisted on it once she was crowned chairperson of the committee. Most of the men were eventually thankful for it, as turned the event from a colorless, tedious gathering to a celebration of lust and pleasure, with business in between.

His final attempt to have his parents go instead of him were dashed at the annoyance in his father’s face.

Gerard tapped his cigar over the edge. “It’s been too long since your mother and I attended. I imagine it’s changed a lot since we’ve gone, and we have no interest in going when we have two sons who are supposed to,” he reminded him needlessly, adding weight to the air, a reminder that Shain was the one who’d gone on behalf of the family.

Until now. Now it was Aleck’s turn. His obligation.

“Have you heard from him?” Aleck asked, knowing they would’ve told him if they had.

Lilith looked down and sniffed; Gerard closed his eyes. The evident pain in their faces was the answer.

Damn you, Shain. At least call them once in a while. One small gesture they could live on for months. It was an expectation that wouldn’t be met anytime soon. Only the gods knew how long it would be before his brother showed himself again.

“He’s doing okay,” Aleck confessed, taking a sip of his drink. “That much I know.”

“How do you know?” his father asked, eyes squinting with just a little resentment that Shain could be in touch with Aleck, but not with him.

“The bank account I set up for him is being withdrawn on regularly.”

“Then you can track where he is?” Lilith asked with hope.

“Where he takes out money from an ATM, but it changes every week. And there are no hotel records on the statements either, so I don’t know where he stays. He must be paying for his accommodations in cash. Just know that he’s somewhere between Washington, Idaho, and Montana.”

She sighed. “I cannot wait until after the Centurias. I know he’ll come home once that’s over and our new allies will help us. Our good name has to mean something.”

He and Gerard exchanged glances. That was if Aleck could even procure new alliances.

He tried to offer some assurance to his parents, so they wouldn’t leave the country depressed. “Maybe once you’re in Cresley, he’ll feel it’s safe to contact you. I’ll do my best to find a way to send him a message, so that he knows how to reach you.”

Lilith smiled softly. “Thank you, Aleck.”

Even though it was more wishful thinking than anything, he could tell it’d given his parents hope, and while the chances of Shain actually contacting him were slim, he would try to make it happen. What they didn’t know was that Shain had a burner phone, in case of an emergency. Aleck called him once in a while to check on him, but his brother’s attitude remained the same: leave me alone.

He talked with his parents through the night. Each were eager to bestow advice on how to navigate the Centurias, since he wouldn’t see them after they left for Europe. Though neither would ever say so to his face, he knew they were at least partially skeptical he could salvage what was left of their lives. They all knew he wouldn’t come close to what his brother had accomplished…before the scandal.

But his brother hadn’t had to deal with scorn and denunciation when he went, and they knew that. While his mother and father’s expectations were high, they were low at the same time, so if he returned with no alliances, and no positive news, the disappointment wouldn’t be so agonizing.

While he had skills that would make any man shudder, he wasn’t very good at playing the game when it came to allies. His skillset was useless to him in that capacity.

No one in his family knew about his…livelihood. They assumed his income came from wise investments. It didn’t. While the money he made was sizable for him, it didn’t bring in the kind of money his parents needed to sustain their level of lifestyle and protection, nor the kind that would keep their allies. One had to be worth tens of millions or have multiple allies to pool their reserves together to reach those sums.

His parents and brother would never know he had a side that he hid from them. A dark side. A hungry side that had nothing to do with blood, sex, or sensas. What he called his “villain.” A part of him that required feeding on the suffering of others. Others that deserved it, like Jerome Peters. Fortunately for Aleck, there was never a shortage of these kinds of men, and there never would be.

A couple of his friends like Fitz and Rhemy knew about his twisted need, but they never judged him or asked questions. At least, not openly.

The underworld beings who hired him didn’t know his face or his real name, only that he got the desired results and took on jobs that were worth his time. The harder the contract, the higher the price. It supplemented his bank account enough to afford things like the auction, which costed him an eye-popping sum.

After his parents retired to their room, he called Fitz to give him the good news.

The fateblood answered after the first ring. “Trevyn.”

He stared out at the woods, smelling the sun making its ascent. “It’s done.”