“The prince of darkness is a gentleman.”
—Shakespeare
“Aubrey. Meet us out front with the limo,” I order, typing up instructions for Felix on my phone while Griff and I pace down the hallway. “Be prepared for a long drive.”
“Yes, Master.” The redhead gives a curt nod and takes off toward the mansion’s lobby.
Few people have proven themselves trustworthy enough to be involved in our dirty work, but Aubrey and Stella are two of them. Stella is ruthlessly loyal as long as it serves Raife, which renders her a liability to me, so I stick to using Aubrey for my own shit. And that’s on a limited basis. I prefer to work alone.
My phone sounds. I answer on the first ring.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Felix asks through the line. “I mean, it’s daytime in the middle of summer.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not a fucking vampire; the sun won’t burn me.”
“Asshole, you know what I mean. It’s been a long time since you did an actual pickup with Griff, and we both know why. Doesn’t help that you’re all worked up, either.”
“Don’t you have a conference call to make?”
“Yes,” he grumbles, “if Raife can get his damn head out of the new hire’s ass long enough to show up.”
My fingers curl around the phone until the edges dig into my palm. The last thing I need right now is to hear about Emmy fucking Highland’s ass. Black hair swinging down her back, blue eyes wide and curious, knees on the white marble and hands clasped neatly in front of her—she was the perfect little hire this morning.
Until she opened those pink lips and let that one, single word spill from her tongue, Master. Like it was meant for me. Like she was spelling out my goddamn name.
Burning irritation cuts through me at the thought of Raife’s hands on her, and I’m both sickened and fascinated by the fact. It shouldn’t send fire scorching through my chest the way it does. The heat is suffocating, making me loosen another shirt button for some fucking air.
Of course, I could have claimed her and owned every move her tongue made from here on out. It would have been so easy. I can’t deny it was tempting, even more so when I saw the black scarf Raife originally placed in that tray for her. Like Griff and Felix, he’d wrongly assumed I intended to claim her. In other words, he’d assumed his manipulations had worked on me. Unfortunately for him, there’s only one person who controls what I do, and that’s me.
Felix’s sigh filters through the speaker. “Clearly a subject for another time.” My jaw ticks, but I keep my stride steady as Griff and I round a corner. “Anyway, you realize what you’re asking me to do is going to start shit, don’t you?”
“Since when are you afraid of starting shit?”
Felix lets out a snort. “It’ll raise red flags, Adam, and you know it. I had every meticulous step of this operation set up for eight tonight, and you’re asking me to move it all up to what, three hours from now? Technicalities aside, how exactly do you think this million-dollar film tycoon will react when we ask him to drop his afternoon plans all for ‘Luke McAvoy’ to reschedule at the last minute? Especially after everything we’ve already been pulling on him up till now.”
I press my lips into a tight line and stop in my tracks. The tension coiled around my muscles is like a leech digging its teeth into my skin and sucking me bone-dry. All because of a little mouse. And it’s pissing me off.
I dip my free hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around my knife. A knife that got its first taste of Emmy’s sweet, crimson blood less than fourteen hours ago. My eyes close as I clench my jaw, stroking the handle with my thumb. Sometimes feeling the weight of the weapon as I walk is enough to calm me, get my pulse under control.
Other times . . .
“Get it done, Felix. I need a damn fix, and moving the appointment up a few hours isn’t going to kill anyone.” I hear a rough chuckle and glance sideways at Griff. He’s shaking his head as he drops the crooked smirk from his face. “Figuratively,” I add as an afterthought and resume walking.
There’s a pause on the line, the sound of a door closing. “Yup, got it. But hey, I meant what I said earlier about going out. Just take it easy.”
Ending the call, I lock my gaze ahead as we approach the lobby’s front door. Of course I know what he means, but I’m not about to discuss it like he’s a damn shrink. I have only one method of therapy, and we’re driving to Pennsylvania to pick it up.
Griff yanks the front window curtain to one side and glances out. He doesn’t move, which tells me Aubrey hasn’t pulled the car up yet.
I roll my shirt sleeves up to my elbows and slip my hands back in my pockets as I wait, watching the door. Felix wasn’t wrong; I can’t remember the last time I stepped outside these walls. My pulse spikes with each passing second. It’s just a few steps on the pavement till I get to the car, nothing to shit anyone’s pants over.
“She’s here.” Griff pulls the door open and heads out.
Light filters through the doorway, dusting the marble flooring with a golden hue, inches from my shoes.
I fall behind to stare past the threshold. Curl my knuckles. Crack my neck. Then I step outside.
“So,” the man sitting across from me folds his hands in his lap, leans back against the leather seat like he owns the limo, “which one of you is Luke McAvoy? I want to know who’s been trying to fuck me over behind a screen for the past year.”
I cock my head. Drink in his sharp Italian suit, slicked-back hair, snakeskin shoes. He’s forty-four, a good fifteen years older than me. And he brought a bodyguard bigger than Griff to accompany him. The man really thinks highly of himself. Hmm. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.
“I suggest you answer within the next century, unless you want to find out how thin my patience really is.”
Griff, seated to my right, looks at me. He quirks an eyebrow, his black pupils dilating with excitement. He’s waiting for my signal. I shake my head.
Not yet.
“Hugo Perez,” I mutter casually, adjusting my watch. “The name blends right in, doesn’t it?”
The man chuckles dryly. “Yeah? I’m so glad you think so.” His lips thinning, he tips his head at me. “Are you Luke? You don’t exactly look like a geek who hides behind his computer. But then, you never can tell how small someone’s balls are under their suit.”
“That geek would be my brother, though I’d leave his balls out of this if I were you.” Felix must have been feeling particularly Irish when he came up with the latest fictional persona, McAvoy.
Hugo leans forward in his seat. The look he gives me is meant to be intimidating, I assume. “Let’s cut the shit. I think you’ve had enough fun pulling my strings like I’m a puppet over this past year. We both know how this works. You have photos on me; I want them gone. Give me the files now, and you’ll walk away relatively unscathed. Or don’t, and you won’t walk away at all.”
I let out a disappointed tsk. “You need to work on your threats if you want anyone to take you seriously. I have to say, with a past like yours, I expected more. At least a little originality.”
He straightens, his face going rigid. His attention shifts between me and Griff. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Shooting his gaze back to me, he asks, “You think I won’t kill over this? Do you really want to test me?”
The silent bodyguard beside him places a hand over the breast pocket of his suit jacket, not so subtly reminding me that he’s packing.
“Depends.” I tap a finger on the leather seat thoughtfully. “That could be interesting, and we do have a long drive ahead.”
The man frowns and looks out the heavily tinted window, finally noticing just how far we’ve strayed from his precious office building. He flicks his cold gaze from Griff to me, grits his jaw. “I don’t care how much testosterone your friend’s on, you’re sorely mistaken if you doubt what I’m capable of. Now, you will turn this car around and hand over the files, or I will personally slit your neck from ear to ear and smile as I watch you bleed out.”
Mmm, I close my eyes and picture it.
Him.
Sitting on my leather seats, just like he is now.
Bleeding out.
My fingers twitch. “Better. Certainly more original.” I center my gaze on his. “Except for one key mistake. Threats only work with honesty. The second you light your words with bullshit, they go up in flames.”
His face reddens, nostrils flaring. My knife burns a hole through my pocket as I watch the blood rush through his veins.
Not yet.
He lunges. “Just what part of what I said was bullsh—”
Griff has Hugo by the throat in the same instant my knife pierces the bodyguard’s jugular. It’s a clean kill—aside from the blood spilling over his suit—and leaves him lifeless within seconds. Quicker than I usually prefer, but I only play with my catch if it’s on the list. The bodyguard just happened to be in the way.
Hugo turns a shade paler with Griff’s grip still locked around his neck. His eyes, however, flash with defiance.
Any ordinary human being would be terrified, perhaps repulsed, in a circumstance such as this one—inhaling the scent of blood, shoulder brushing a dead body, smears of red staining his employee’s gaping neck.
Not him, though. We are all cut from the same cloth, after all. To a certain extent anyway. My brothers and I were the cloth; this man, one of the many people who’d held the scissors.
A spark of satisfaction simmers beneath my skin as I soak in the light spattering of blood coloring his left cheek, his neck. Although it’s not his own, the sneak peek of what’s to come will have to hold me over until we get to the house.
“To answer your question,” I begin, withdrawing a clean cloth from my back pocket and carefully wiping my hand, then the knife’s blade, “the exact part of your threat that was bullshit was in pretending you’d personally slit my neck.”
His eyes bulge, his voice livid. “You don’t fucking kno—”
“Because you’re the type to watch someone else do the cutting, aren’t you? The type to cash in without getting your hands dirty.” I pause mid-cleaning as I give him my undivided attention. “Of course, that’s unless you’ve changed since the last time I saw you.”
His brows pull together. “What the hell are you—” Griff loosens his hold as he watches recognition take over the man’s face. “But that was—that’s not—it’s not possible . . .” This right here, those first few seconds our supposed victims begin to piece it all together, this is Griff’s favorite part. My brother snarls, sets his jaw. Never taking his eyes off the coward.
Personally, my favorite part comes much later.
“Whether you’re going by Hugo Perez these days or Misha . . . not everyone is fooled.”
Finally, I see it. Fear. His face goes sheet-white against the red spattering, a swallow sticks in his throat. His eyes dart to the car door.
The man has no idea what real fear tastes like. Yet.
“Y-you were locked away,” he stammers, scooting back in his seat. “Besides, you were just a kid. You don’t know what you heard or saw while you were there.”
I nod and resume wiping down my knife. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I could be mistaken.”
Griff grunts, then digs his elbow into Hugo’s stomach when the man tries to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Fuck,” Hugo groans, doubling over. He doesn’t seem to have a high pain tolerance. My lips quirk.
“Maybe I should call Katerina,” I suggest. “You know, double-check and everything.”
“Katerina—she’s been . . .”
“Dead?”
His gaze narrows. “You. You had something to do with what happened the night of her death. Didn’t you?” He pauses and eyes the door once more, fidgets with the strap of his seatbelt. “I heard some people started disappearing again.”
“Did you now? You’ve been paying attention.” I cock my head to the side. “How many kids in total lost their lives at your hands, do you think? How many innocents filled yours and Katerina’s pockets?”
I gently drag the edge of my knife against my palm, teetering on the edge of breaking skin. Beads of sweat are dripping down Hugo’s forehead when I look back up.
And, yet, he glares and clenches his fist. “How much do you want?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I said, how much? That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Kidnap the millionaire and use your leverage to get a payday?” He actually sounds hopeful as he glances between me and Griff.
I could almost laugh if his words didn’t make my blood boil. “I think you’re missing the point, Hugo. Your money is already ours.” Felix accesses the accounts of everyone on our list—offshore included—well before we get to this point. It’s my job to get the final signatures, but that’s child’s play once they’re in my basement. “What we want is the same thing you want.”
He barks a hysterical laugh. “To gouge your fucking eyes out?”
My eyes dance at the coincidence. “We’ll get to that. I’m talking about art. That’s what you and Katerina attempted to create through Misha, wasn’t it? That’s what you marketed it as, anyway; true and awakened art.”
He snorts, though his fear makes it sound like he’s choking. “I couldn’t give three fucks about her work. I didn’t even see it half the time, so if you’re looking for some kind of payback, you’ve got the wrong guy. I dealt with the transactions, the money, and that’s it. I’m hardly the guilty one here.” When I continue silently toying with my knife, testing the pressure of the blade against my skin, he shifts in his seat. “Besides, didn’t you hear? I’m the high-profile CEO of a million dollar porn company, not some unclaimed foster kid like you guys. People would notice if I went missing.”
I lift one corner of my lips and lean forward, close enough to glide the point of my blade across the bridge of his nose. A familiar jolt of adrenaline courses through me. “Do you ever think about them? The countless kids whose lives you stole?”
Silence stretches between the three of us, the low hum of the vehicle the only sound in the air. A vein in Griff’s neck spasms. He’s just as impatient as I am.
“Not a single day.” Hugo’s voice is uneven and breathy, but he manages to smile. My arms flex with the restraint it takes to keep from making him scream. I have a fucking fantastic room for that at home. “They were hardly innocent. The lot of you. Running from the system and wreaking havoc. And by the time Katerina used them for her work, they were practically adults anyway.”
My pulse thrums wildly.
Hugo doesn’t stop, his voice grating on my ears until they’re raw. “You know it, I know it. If she didn’t get to them, they would have gone off to become criminals, thieves, even killers.” His lips twist, and he eyes me up and down. “So really, we were doing society a favor. I was just smart enough to earn a little—”
The knife, still pressed against the tip of his nose, slides through his skin like butter, only jerking at the cartilage. His piercing scream is delightful, even through the bloody cloth I shove in his mouth as Griff holds his hands down.
“A little early,” Griff mutters, giving me a sideways look.
I shrug. So I could stand to work on my restraint.
The fresh flow of blood streams down Hugo’s lips, his chin, and my thumping pulse relaxes. When his head lolls forward, I frown. Usually takes more than this before they faint. He was right about one thing—you really can’t tell how small someone’s balls are beneath their suit.
Raking my eyes along his face, I contemplate exactly what I want to do next with Hugo Perez. Which body part I want to move on to.
The man has always been a coward. Even my teenage self could see that. Those first few times that he had no choice but to enter Katerina’s domain, each visit ended the same way—with his head between his legs and puke covering his clothes.
Just like me, one day became two, two became three. Days became weeks. Weeks became years. And just like me, he eventually grew used to it.
The blood. The cries. The screams.
But visiting isn’t the same as living it. Coming and going as you please is different than waking up to it, closing your eyes to it, inhaling it, exhaling it, and soon enough, becoming it.
I don’t realize I’m squeezing Hugo’s hand until I hear a snap.
Fuck. I sit back in my seat and close my eyes, feeling the warm thrum of energy vibrate inside me. No, when I work on Hugo’s fingers, he will be wide awake.
I press a button on the center console for the intercom. “Aubrey. Tell Stella to have a bottle of whiskey waiting when we arrive.” A satisfied sigh leaves my lips as I sit back, stretch out my legs. “It’s going to be a long fucking day.”