Page 25 of Stroke of Shadows

Sythe rested his hands on his thighs. “Depends if you’re going to fuck me over or not.”

A bark of laughter. “I have to say, I appreciate your honesty. Not many have the balls to speak to me how you are.”

Sythe kept himself relaxed, almost bored.

Angel pursed his lips. “Your instincts saved my son,” he continued, matter of factly. “Not many would have helped him.”

Sythe frowned, finally allowing some emotions to break through. “I couldn’t leave him vulnerable.”

“Exactly.” Angel nodded as if he was confirming something. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

Sythe frowned. “Looking for, Sir?”

“In life, Mr Black. Is it money? Success? You live in a shitty flat only a mile from where you grew up. You clearly lack funds, and unless you’re able to get a job soon, you’ll likely lose the place.”

Arsehole. “Money means fuck all when you’re dead. I get by, I always do.”

“Hmm.” Angel stared for a moment. “I told you before I don’t like to be in debt.”

Sythe waited.

“I have a proposition for you, one that will benefit us both.” He pointedly stared at Sythe’s cheap clothes. “My son’s stupidity last week has proven he needs someone at his back. Someone who’s loyal to the family.”

“Father, I’ve already told you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Angel growled, not letting Wyatt speak. “You’ve disappointed me enough already. You’ve spiralled these past few months, and people are going to notice soon enough. It makes you a liability.”

“I’m not—”

Angel smashed his fist against his desk, the crack loud against the wood. “I said shut the fuck up.”

The guard widened his stance, dead eyes flicking between all three of them.

“Loyalty’s earned,” Sythe said, licking along his bottom lip. “I trust Wyatt, but I don’t know you from Adam.”

“It’s not me who needs to prove themselves.” Angel stood, turning towards the flames. “Like I said before I was interrupted, I have a proposal that you may find interesting. Wyatt needs a new right-hand man. Someone to protect him while he runs certain errands that require a little more… force.”

“So you want me to be his friend?” Sythe asked, brow quirked. “I thought you’d just said—”

“You’ll receive a healthy wage,” Angel interrupted. “As well as your most recent charge removed from your record. In return, you’ll use those fists of yours for a purpose.”

Sythe cocked his head, waiting long enough for them to believe he was debating it. “What about the rest of my record?”

A dark chuckle. “What will it be, Mr Black? I can assure you, my men are treated with the utmost respect, as long as the same respect is returned.”

“Does that mean you’re going to skin the rat once you find him?”

Angel’s eyes glittered with amusement. “So, what will it be?”

Sythe looked to Wyatt, who was gritting his teeth so hard it looked as if they’d break. “What do you need me to do?”

Angel took his time answering, reaching for his glass and taking a slow sip. “Before we begin, I’ll need you to demonstrate to me that you’re one of us. That your faith and views align with ours.”

“So removing the fucker who stabbed Wyatt wasn’t enough?” Sythe scowled. “Be straight with me, Mr Beauchamp. None of this confusing bullshit.”

“Angel.” The amber liquor swirled. “Not Mr Beauchamp. Only call me Angel unless I tell you otherwise.”

“Angel,” Sythe repeated. “So why me? Like you’ve just said, I’m a nobody from the wrong side of the city. I don’t need your money, or your status, or whatever the fuck else you’re offering. I do absolutely fine on my own.”

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