Page 30 of Sin and Salvation

My throat tightened again. How could I have lived in fear of them for so many years, believing everything Maxime said about them, when they knew exactly what would make me tick even though they hardly knew me?

“Thanks,” I rasped out, and Crow’s thumb brushed my cheek before he released me. He jerked his head at Aeron. “You’re with me on this.”

The hellhound made a small noise of protest, but he finally dragged himself off the chair, running inked fingers through my hair as he passed.

The doors clicked shut behind them, and I was left alone with the VP.

“We each have our own room in the penthouse,” Zane told me. He picked up my empty coffee cup, and I got up and followed him to the kitchen. “More?”

I nodded. The sight of Rastus had shocked me so badly, and now the caffeine was clearing my head bit by bit.

I hadn’t anticipated how it would feel to finally tell the story to someone. Like I’d punctured a festering wound, and now all the poison was bleeding out, leaving nothing but a clean slate behind inside me.

I parked my mostly-naked butt on one of the stools as Zane refilled my cup and stirred in a sugar cube.

“The rules up here are pretty simple. Clean up after yourself. Respect your neighbor’s privacy and belongings.” He sat on the stool across from me, the black marble island between us. He drank his coffee black, I noticed.

“Why do the rules matter?” I asked, wanting a blunt answer for once. “I live downstairs.”

Zane’s sculpted features were like marble themselves, but his eyes gave away all his emotions. I’d never seen someone who could do so little as twitch an eyebrow and still make his surprise clear. “Because you’ll be living up here from now on. We’ll help you bring your things up later.”

I almost choked on my coffee.

“Before you ask why, the answer is because.” Zane’s lips tightened a fraction. “It’s… something we’ll discuss when Crow is done taking care of business.”

“Does that business have anything to do with Rastus?” I asked shrewdly over the rim of my mug.

Zane simply pulled out his phone, scrolled to something, and slid it to me across the island.

I picked it up and found myself looking at a mass text message. There were so many numbers on the list, it boggled my mind. But the most recent message was from the group member marked ‘President’, along with a photo.

It was a clear picture of Rastus’s face, taken in the club downstairs, his nose still twisted in a sneer. I wondered, feeling a little light-headed, when Crow had managed to snap it.

Beneath it was a message stating my brother’s name, a general description of his appearance, and a warning that he was not to step foot on the north side of Granite Avenue. Anyone found doing business with him would answer to Crow for it.

I slid the phone back to Zane. It was impossible to say whether I felt more relief or sadness.

In the end, money made monsters of everyone, even my own family. Blood counted for nothing when there were millions on the line.

“He won’t bother you again. Now, as for Maxime… that, I can’t say.” Zane took a long drink. “He has the money and connections to keep sending people after you.”

“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused,” I said miserably, staring into the depths of my coffee.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been embroiled with Maxime for a long, long time. Well before you were his slave. You’d probably be surprised at how much business he conducts in back alleys at gunpoint.”

I raised my head, disbelief spreading across my face.

“Oh, not him personally,” Zane said. “He hires hands to do it for him. I have it on good authority that the recent sale of the Concordia Plaza was… not entirely an amicable transaction.”

I nodded slowly. “Maxime sent… he sent his bodyguards to collect the papers and cash. I heard a few months later that the sales agent was, um… still recovering.”

A little bubble of shame floated up within me. I’d been so miserable I’d been unable to think of anyone but myself, and I hadn’t been smart enough to collect all the intel I could. There were probably small details of his business I’d overlooked that would tell a much different story for people like the Black Hearts.

I wanted to kick myself. “I wish I’d paid more attention. I could give you Maxime’s head on a platter.”

Zane tapped his fingers against the side of his cup. They were an odd juxtaposition, his fingers slim and elegant despite the black scales inked over them. “Don’t worry, Venus. You’ve been at his side for years. Anything you tell us about his usual lifestyle will be just as valuable as a single piece of intel.”

I hoped that was true. Mostly because I wanted to be there when Maxime found himself backed into a corner, with no way out.

---