Page 170 of Ruthless God

“Destroyed the Brotherhood,” Henderson echoes, voice laced with confusion. “What in the fuck are you talking about?”

Moretti's gaze sharpens. “And who, exactly, is this man?”

I tilt my head, watching them. And then I drop the hammer.

“Me.”

The weight of that single word drops into the room like a guillotine. The air shifts. Tightens. I watch as their expressions change. A mixture of shock, disbelief, and, for some, understanding. Because some of them already knew. Or at least,suspected. Santos’ lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t speak.

Henderson, however, laughs. Short. Bitter. “Bullshit.”

Moretti’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re telling us you killed DeLeon and Smith?”

I shrug, my expression unreadable.

“Yes.”

Carter tenses, his fingers curling into fists. “Why?”

“Because they deserved it.” I take another step forward, my voice calm, unwavering. “The Brotherhood was rotting from the inside. A disease. A legacy built on power, on greed, on suffering.” I glance at Santos. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t. Because he can’t.

Moretti leans back in his chair, a slow exhale escaping him. He’s calculating now. Running through scenarios in his head. Trying to see how this ends for him.

Henderson shakes his head, standing abruptly. “This is insane. You’re fucking insane.”

“Am I?” I take my last step forward, standing in the center of them now. “I didn't just kill them.”

The words are deliberate. Unapologetic.

“I exposed them.”

That gets their attention.

Moretti’s eyes darken. “Exposed them how?”

I lift a shoulder, the ghost of a smirk playing on my lips.

“By morning, the world will know exactly who they were. What they did. What all of you did.”

The air cracks like ice. Carter finally reacts, his voice low, dangerous.

“You wouldn't.”

I meet his gaze head-on. “I already have.”

The room erupts. Henderson curses, running a hand through his hair. Santos shoves back his chair, his expressionshifting between rage and something that looks a lot like disappointment. Moretti simply sits there, processing. Coming up with a plan, I’m sure.

“You have two hours to figure out how to save your own asses. Now, I’m sure you’re ready to invoke some rules.” My smile is grim. “Before you do, I’d like to be there when Blanc gets his.”

“Gets his,” Moretti echoes. “He’s here?”

“In my basement. In a cell.”

“No, he’s not,” Cecely says from behind me.

Spinning, I find her and Blanc standing side by side. A hush falls over the room. All eyes turn to them. To the woman who was never meant to be a part of this world and the man who once ruled it. She doesn’t stop until she reaches the center of the room.

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