Page 13 of Carry Your Debt

It’s been a tense afternoon—to say the least—with my Crew effectively being held hostage on the tarmac while we wait for the Gatekeeper to send through coordinates for this year’s secret Symposium location. He’s the only person with the authority to grant travel and trade rights within neutral Underworld territories, and no one can enter a host city until he gives the green light.

This also happens to be the first time the Junior Council has managed to occupy the same space since being forced to relocate to Roxborough. It’s simply unfortunate the ‘space’ has to be the cabin of a private passenger jet sent by the Gray Man to escort us all to the event like the naughty children we are.

After sweeping the plane’s interior for bugs, Zeus had then made ample use of the temporary incarceration to fill us in on the contents of the mysterious file he’d been sent.Unbeknownst to Dio and I, it hadn’tjustbeen the singularly explosive set ofpaternity results. He’d also been sent several other documents; some detailing Sebastian’s latest moves on the Governorship, some his endgame bid for the Senate, and some with evidence supporting a recent toe dip into the skin trade.

That last was something that—to our prior knowledge—the Suits had yet to dabble in.

Information,weapons, drugs, prostitution: yes. But never before had we resorted to full-out human trafficking. It just hadn’t been the Gray Men’s ‘style’, or so our Crew’d been led to believe all these years.

Now, of course, we’ve been left with a whole slew of new questions. The most important being:So,justwhose stylewasit?

But also:Who thought we needed to know about it?

Despite all these new unknowns, Zeus seems to think this leak puts us in a slightly better position going into this evening’s foray inside the lion’s den. According to him,anyedge over the Gray Man is better than nothing.No matter how small.

I, on the other hand, don’t feel any more confident than I did last week. But if I’m honest, the only thing Iamfeeling right now is the aftermath of having had my entire rib cage fashionably and torturously rearranged since midday.

And I have several more hours of this misery left to go.

I’ll show you ‘fussing’,mister.

After what feels like an eternity of holding my breath, Zeus finally breaks the expectant silence.

“It’s being held in Themis this year,” he announces, nodding grimly as the entire team sucks in a shocked breath. “Still waiting on the actual final location.”

“Fuck,” Knox spits, prompting everyone to turn to him, eyebrows raised in varying states of surprise.Mine are personally hovering right at the jet’s ceiling.

Our giant marshmallow of an Enforcer?

Heneverswears.

The tips of Knox’s ears immediately turn pink in response, but I can’t blame the slip.

‘Fuck’isexactlywhat we’re all thinking.

While technically a No Man’s Land, the vast majority ofImperium in Imperiofactions still consider the city of Themis neutral ground when operating within its limits. That’s because the small, unincorporated territory happens to be home to the ruling seat ofConcordia: the lawmakers and peacekeepers for the entire Underworld, and led by the Arbiter herself.

The Symposium being hosted by none other than theImperium’s very own Red Court means there’s a very high chance that something truly significant is about to go down.

And in our world, significant isnevera good thing.

“It’s certainly contentious. Could be because of a high-profile trial we weren’t already made aware of. But more than likely, the choice to host there is linked in some way to the unclaimed Southern crown.”

Personally, I think the chances of itnotbeing related to the empty throne are practically slim to none. It’s been almost four months since the Green Knight’s mysterious death, and we’re no closer to crowning a new Sovereign than the day he died. A criminal leadership vacuum of this sort of magnitude is a truly special sort of anarchy, and the Arbiter’s intervention would’ve become a necessary evil, sooner rather than later.

Besides, the Underworld is by no means short of gossip merchants. Even in exile, we’ve been able to keep our finger on the pulse. We would’ve definitely heard news of any upcoming Judgements well before tonight.

“Well, I guess the bright side is not even the boss would be crazy enough to pull some shit on the Arbiter’s home turf,” Dio muses, his dark humor a reminder of the probable deathsentence now hanging over our Crew like some fucked up Sword of Damocles.

Zeus hums. “As far as we know, the Sinclair kid isn’t aware of his connection to my father. So no, I doubt that’s the sort of bombshell even he’d drop in the middle of a masked event known for its discretion,” he agrees, though I see something like conflict flickering across his expression. “Still, it’s probably best if we keep an eye on him tonight. Maybe run interference if needed. If we’re lucky, Sabine can get to him first after you’re all back in Roxborough.”

His words are loosely disguised as a suggestion, but I still see what the order costs him in the sharp flex of his jaw. Nobody wants to take on the responsibility of protecting a person who may end up being responsible for your own demise. But at the end of the day, Apolloisstill Jax’s blood.

He’s also just as much a pawn of Sebastian’s as we are, and if anything, that simple fact will end up being more of a driving factor behind his decisions than a simple DNA report.

Without another word, Zeus rises, buttoning his jacket back over his silk waistcoat before leaving to inform the pilot of our destination. I shift restlessly in my seat as I watch him go, trying in vain to keep my own outfit’s sharp waistline from stabbing into my churning gut.

The seat squeaks loudly beneath me, and I brace myself before glancing sideways at Dionysus, ready for more of his signature teasing. I needn’t have bothered though. The asshole must’ve decided now is as good a time as any to take a nap because his eyes are closed, breaths already evening out.

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