Page 164 of Ruthless God

“Sir?” Her gaze darts to the cell. To Blanc. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to leave.”

“It’s fine.” I hold her gaze, steady. Unwavering. I lie. “Promise.”

She’s torn. I can see it in the way her shoulders tighten. The way she studies me, like she’s waiting for me to give something away. I get it. I really do. But she won’t find anything. Because I won’t let her.

She debates a moment longer. Then, finally, she nods.

“I’ll let you know when the others arrive.”

I dip my head.

“Thank you.”

She lingers, just for a second. Like she’s about to say something. Then she turns and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I turn to Cecely, watching the flicker of emotions play across her face.

“Come here. I’d like to show you something.”

She doesn’t move at first. Her body is tight with hesitation, suspicion. But, finally, she follows a few steps behind, like she’s still not sure if she should trust me. Smart girl.

I lead her down the hall, toward the security room. The door swings open, revealing the wall of screens, the endless flickering of surveillance feeds.

She freezes in the doorway, breath catching. I watch her reaction, waiting.

“Too soon?”

The joke falls flat. She doesn’t laugh. Her gaze snaps to me, sharp as a blade.

“Yes.”

I chuckle, unbothered. “Oh. Well, then you’re probably not going to like what I show you next.”

Her eyes narrow. Still, she steps inside. I gesture toward the chair in front of the monitors. An invitation.

She hesitates. Then, slowly, she sinks into it, her posture stiff, guarded.

I lean against the desk, arms crossed, letting her take it all in.

The live feeds. The shadows moving through the house. The people trapped in their own little corners of this twisted game.

Millie and Agnes are speaking to Aimée and her daughters.

Beatrice still sits alone in her room, motionless.

The cameras at the Elite Members’ homes?

Empty.

Because they’re all on their way here.

Racing toward the downfall of the Brotherhood.

Cecely’s eyes scan the screens, taking in each piece of the puzzle.

I tilt my head. “I’m sure you have some questions for me.”

Her gaze flicks toward me. Suspicion. Distrust. But curiosity, too. That’s the thing about curiosity. It’ll get you killed if you’re not careful.

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