Page 122 of A Debt of Darkness

The price of my ask is high. Exceptionally high. And he's obliged to pay me. In blood and gold, with no escape for him or the Brotherhood. Not if they wish to maintain their authority.

He’s a dead man walking, but he doesn’t look concerned. He’s relaxed. Calm. Like he has a fucking plan and it’s going tosave his life.

“I thought it might come to this,” Emmanuel says, leaning back as if he hasn't a care in the world. “I assume you'd be prepared to negotiate.”

Ryan and Matt cross their arms in unison, both signaling there's not a fucking chance either of them is happy with this idea. I’m not thrilled. It’ll be seen as a sign of weakness if the Brotherhood pays anything other than the full cost of their mistake, by those inside and outside the coven.

“There is a deal to be had, Henry,” the Deacon says in a voice so damn tempting even I want to consider taking it without a second thought. “One that would be in both our interests.”

He turns his head to stare at the painting on my wall, seemingly losing himself in the blue and green swirls that paint the reflection on the lily pond. The calm colors of the water are a far cry from the fiery amber of Matt’s irises and the rage burning through Ryan’s muscles.

“One that would protect your wife.”

Ryan snarls and sends the papers on my desk hurtling into the air as he lunges at the high priest, unleashing every ounce of anger in him. He’s fast but not fast enough, and Emmanuel leaps out of the way, turning as he lands effortlessly. Ryan crashes onto the empty chair, hurtling to the ground in an undignified landing from which there’s no recovery.

The Deacon of the Brotherhood might try to pass as a retired fighter, but he moves faster than lightning and he’s quite the force of nature. He’s crafty, hiding his skill behind a scholarly façade and I was fucking right not to underestimate the cunt.

“She is your mate and the Brotherhood does not wish to intervene when the gods have gifted her to you,” Emmanuelsays, staring down at Ryan as he pulls himself to his feet.

“You’ve done a bit of fucking intervening already.”

My eyes flick to Ryan and tell him to shut the fuck up before I’m forced to do something he’ll regret. Matt moves from the edge of the room, snarling as he steps between his partner and the high priest, refusing to do anything other than protect what’s his. We’re all on edge, all ready to pounce, and the tension ratchets up as the four of us stare each other down.

“My mistake,” Emmanuel says, cool and collected. “I’d forgotten the pair of you are partners. You really should consider making the appropriate commitments to each other. It would be my honor to officiate your wedding myself.”

Matt’s eyes narrow and he takes a dangerous step forward.

“ENOUGH.”

The silence that descends on my office is louder than the roar of every fucking battle I’ve ever been in. Combined. Matt and Ryan seethe as the man in charge of the goddamn Brotherhood dusts himself down, finally showing that he’s having to adjust himself.

“Henry…”

“SHUT. UP.”

My eyes turn to Emmanuel and they pour pure venom at the asshole who dares to walk in here like he owns the fucking place while threatening my wife.

“I assure you I mean her no harm, Henry,” he says, flicking his eyes to Matt and Ryan. “Truly. I did not intend my words to be construed as a threat.”

“What is it you want, Emmanuel?”

I step around the desk, stalking toward him like the apex predator I am. Ryan may have missed, but I’m not Ryan. And there’s no way I’m fucking missing if the cunt even thinksabout harming Ivy.

“A truce.” He nods. “An alliance, Henry. I want us to be friends.”

“You want forgiveness?” My voice is as sharp as a blade and it cuts through his bullshit like a knife. “You want fucking forgiveness when you should be on your fucking knees pleading for your life?”

He swallows. Finally, the cunt reacts.

I’m within my rights to demand his blood as payment—along with that of his high court—and no one would intervene to protect him or the Brotherhood. Their mistake has cost them dearly, and my refusal to listen to his terms might force him to break.

“If I can just explain…”

“Why?” I snarl.

“It’s in your…”

My eyebrow cuts him short.

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