Page 4 of Hate Me

It had gone beyond just good sense, though. Dante was right. It was absolutely paranoia, because those left remaining at King and in the city underground had proven their loyalty to me beyond financial rewards. They were loyal to me personally, to what I stood for. And it was something that Elijah Bane didn’t have. Those kissing his feet and doing his bidding were basically mercenaries, only in it for the money and rewards. It was his weakness, one I would exploit.

My people believed in me.

And, yes, it was time I returned that faith.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” I told Dante.

He smiled, knowing what that really meant. That his point had landed well and I would actually see to it. “Excellent,” he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze, then stepping back. “Now, then, I can move on to the other reason I came to you tonight.”

I pulled off my balaclava, pocketed it in my tactical pants, then shook out my long, caramel waves. “I need to call in my cleanup team first.” I went to reach for my phone, but his words pulled me up short.

“No need. My team will be here in moments.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Just trying to lighten your load a little.”

“I don’t need you to do that.”

“But I wanted to. Especially at this time of the year.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me that with how incredibly busy you’ve been, personal matters have been driven that far into the background? Your birthday, Caspian? Twenty-five years in this world in a couple of days?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m well aware, thank you.”

“Yet, you have no plans to celebrate.”

“I didn’t celebrate last year either.” I eyeballed him. “Is that the other reason you’re here? To wish me a happy birthday in person? Let me guess, that’s what my father would have wanted?”

“It’s what I want.”

Our eyes locked.

Intensity flared between us.

Emotion.

I felt his care seeping into me.

I cleared my throat. “Well, I appreciate it.”

He smiled. “I didn’t come here empty-handed.”

“You seriously brought along a birthday present?” I asked, highly-amused. The jarring juxtaposition of him coming to a kill op with a gift like that was odd, to say the least.

He reached into the inside pocket of his wool coat. “Now, what to get the man who supposedly has everything, hmm?”

I looked on curiously as he pulled a letter-sized envelope out.

“An intel packet,” he told me, as he handed it over.

I frowned as I took it. “Regarding what?”

“Caleb.”

I stilled, my muscles locking, at the invocation of that name. One that had very rarely been spoken aloud over the last two years.

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