“It’s done.”

I slammed the revolver onto the table, spinning the butt toward Marini. The mother-of-pearl shone in the light, the beauty of the thing marred by all the lives it had taken. Instead of a headsman’s ax, Fortitude had a gun. The executioner.

It was late when I’d arrived back at the compound, past one a.m., but Marini wanted an immediate report the moment I got in. Whatever hour it was. Revenge, messages, shows of power. Blood never waited, and neither did he.

I’d soon learned how he wanted it and never made the mistake of waiting to inform him of anything ever again. That was how I got my first scar and how I first met Butcher. A pissed-off hulk of a man sewing me up at the ass crack of dawn was one of my first encounters with the bikers of Fortitude MC. When I didn’t flinch as the needle dragged through my skin was when I’d forged my reputation as a hard-ass. Marini never laid a hand on me after, but that didn’t mean I was untouchable. Not by a long shot.

The dining table in the president’s room was empty, save for the revolver. He sat at the head like he was the king of the world and regarded me smugly. Marini leaned forward, his fingers brushing the barrel like a father caressed his newborn child. Well, was supposed to anyway.

“You know, Betty eyed off that gun,” he said. “Maybe she has something in her, after all.”

I doubted she knew what her father used it for because if she did, I knew she would be disgusted. I hadn’t told her what I did, but she had a good idea. If I told her outright, would she be repulsed? Would she turn her back on me? I’d served seven years killing for the man she loathed.

I grunted and shifted my weight from my left leg to my right.

“Did you make him squeal?” the president asked.

I’d made it quick and painless, but he didn’t need to know that. My tastes had changed in light of certain…events. Yeah, events.

“Like a pig,” I replied. “Cried for his mommy.”

“Good. Took you long enough.”

“I had to make sure there was no heat on him,” I said, resting my hand on the back of a chair. “Last thing Fortitude needs right now is the Feds sniffing around. Especially after the…incident.” I grimaced.

“That fucking train,” Marini said, narrowing his eyes. “You were sloppy, Chaser.”

“It was unavoidable. They ambushed us. Forced me to improvise or lose the girl entirely. She’d be hanging in King’s house of horrors right now.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Marini said with a growl. “Don’t take me for an idiot, Chaser. I want clean.” His gaze dropped to my hand, then to my leg. “Is that still fucking bothering you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Butcher says it’ll take weeks before it’s fully healed. I don’t have weeks.”

“Like a good little soldier you are.” He smirked and picked up the gun. “What do you think of Betty?”

“I don’t think anything,” I replied, unsettled by his abrupt change of subject.

“Yeah, you do think something, Chaser. You think a great deal. It’s ingrained in that baby-faced head of yours. That’s what they train people like you to do in the FBI.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You ordered me to get her back here. I got her back here.”

“Took you long enough.”

“The—”

Marini slammed his fist down on the table, and I was suddenly grateful I’d left the revolver unloaded.

“You are a shit stain on Fortitude, Chaser,” he declared. “A putrid skid mark who never lived up to the deal he made. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you. You got it?”

I nodded. Oh, I got it all right.

“Tell me. What do you think of Betty?”

He was baiting me, which meant he suspected. Where had I slipped? Had Sloane… No, she wouldn’t. She was rock solid. Whatever I said next, I had to choose my words carefully.

“She broke Harley’s nose,” I said, my voice low. “She may be fighting the wrong battles, but she can fight.”

Marini snorted and leaned back in his chair. “She got my tattoo. Did you know? My tattoo. No one gave her permission to mark herself like she’s one of us. Who did she kill to earn her place?”

“Hollow Men,” I replied, deadpanning him.

“Hollow Men…” He scoffed and flipped open the barrel. Seeing the chambers were all empty, he scowled. “Get out.”

Turning, I gladly left, leaving Marini to sulk on his own.

Shit, he suspected. What, exactly, remained to be seen, but doubt was dangerous enough. Marini was trigger happy. Always looking for an excuse to use that gun of his. He would use it on his own daughter if he knew what we were up to.

I had to warn her to cool off for a while and lay low.

Stopping by the door to the roof, I sighed. The heat and the bloodshed were getting to me. Being apart from Sloane was messing with me more than I wanted to admit. This shouldn’t be hard. Subterfuge was second nature.

Wasn’t it?

Breaking point was never as close as it was right now.