Page 140 of A Debt of Darkness

“Not you, lea.” My voice is soft, but my expression is as hard as steel. “It’s not a bad idea.” It’s a fucking good idea. One that will let me start the long and drawn-out process of torturing the cunt who should have been protecting his daughter. “Matt and Emmanuel can help you find the book and sort out your things while I have a chat with your father.”

She whimpers and I seethe, beyond livid because my wife is enduring an unpleasant ordeal. Her head turns to Matt and his eyes soften as he smiles and offers her his hand.

“Let’s go see what you’ve been hiding in your room. I’m betting there’s a ton of pink fluffy shit we can bring back with us.”

We all know the game he’s playing. The one where he makes light of a dark situation by offering Ivy something that’ll drive me insane. There’s not a fucking chance I’m letting any pink fluffy shit contaminate my room—our room—but I might flex and allow her a little in hers.

On this one occasion.

Now Matt has forced my hand by wrapping his around Ivy’s.

“Take care of my wife,” I hiss at both Matt and Emmanuel as they walk up the hideous curved staircase. “You put one fucking foot wrong and I’ll deal with you myself.”

Both their strides falter and I smirk, delighted the mere threat of violence affects the head of the Brotherhood. But my excitement is over more than that and I’d be a fool todeny myself the pleasure of anticipating the hell I’m about to unleash on her father.

I follow Matt’s trail, stalking his scent through corridors and rooms until her father’s stench overpowers all the other smells around me. It’s rancid, sweat laced with fear and dread, but an arrogance that defies all expectations. I’m not surprised Ryan found him so fucking quickly, and I pity my second for having to endure the foul odor for this long.

The pathetic excuse for a man sits behind his desk, trying to assert his authority despite the fact he clearly has none. Ryan’s standing behind him, controlling every fucking move he makes, pulling his strings like the expert puppet master I know him to be.

“You took your time, Henry,” the man says, his tone thick with disdain.

“I had more important matters to attend to, Charles.”

He laughs and he really shouldn’t. The man is a cunt of the highest order and even Ryan screws his face up in disgust, appalled.

“Like fucking my daughter? How have you found your new wife?”

I sit, reclining like I don’t give a single fuck. I do, but I have not one fucking concern about anything that happens from here on out. Not when he’s been so fucking disrespectful to my fucking wife. I smile politely, letting my anger brew beneath the façade I use to conceal my viciousness. Always the polished gentleman and never the ruthless monster.

“Ivy is a delight. We’re very happy, thank you for enquiring.”

Ryan scoffs, aware the cunt didn’t ask.

The asshole smirks, and it’s fucking unbecoming. “I’m glad you’re enjoying her. You paid enough for the whore.”

I keep my composure. Just. Ryan doesn’t, and his disgust and revulsion pours into the room, present in his scent and the blazing red fury radiating from his irises. Ryan’s lived through many horrors and witnessed many unspeakable acts throughout the centuries we’ve endured, but this has shocked him.

“Fathers tend to dote on their daughters, Charles. At least in my experience. In the same way that husbands adore their wives.”

He throws his head back and laughs, and Ryan uses every fucking ounce of his control not to slit the man’s throat. Our eyes meet and he’s waiting on my command, pleading to have permission to execute the revolting, nauseating asshole delighting in whatever the fuck amuses him.

“She’s not my daughter.”

I arch my eyebrow, maintaining my calm exterior when my insides churn and run wild with surprise and disbelief. I’m experienced enough to contain my disbelief, but grateful I chose to sit, ignoring the slight stagger as Ryan succumbs to his astonishment.

“Her mother was a whore and I see no reason why her daughter would be any different.”

There’s the loathing. There’s the hate. It’s the cruelty and wickedness Ivy knew was lurking inside her father and the spitefulness she hid from. It’s why she asked me to protect her sister, why she didn’t dare leave her here. It’s the bitter, petty anger of a weak and wounded man. One who’s jealous and pathetic enough to take his anger out on someone too weak to fight back.

“Ivy isn’t your daughter?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, Henry. Her mother was my wife, though. Before she had the accident.” He smirks as his fingers drum the desk and his meaning is crystal clear. “I didn’t realizeuntil after Izzy was born and I refused to be fooled twice.”

Ryan’s teeth extend, and I lift my index finger, telling him to fucking wait.

“And Izzy?”

“Mine,” he says. “That girl is perfect and given the circumstances, I thought it appropriate she inherits everything. You’ll take care of Ivy, especially since you seem so enamored with her.”

---