Page 156 of Dance of Ruin

“I’m mostly retired these days,” Oliver says. “But I used to do a bit of financial maneuvering for clients with, shall we say,checkeredbackgrounds—the Obsidian Syndicate among them.”

“And you’re breaking your rule and telling me about them why?”

“Becauseinmy semi-retirement, I find myself married, and a father. That has a way of changing one’s perspective.”

“Suddenly feeling guilty about managing money for the worst people on earth?”

Prince chuckles quietly. “Mr. Barone, I would imagine I’m encumbered by about as much guilt as you.”

I smirk.

I don’t feel any guilt at all. Pretty sure Prince knows that.

…Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we’re on the same footing here.

“Now, as to the Obsidian Syndicate,” he continues. “They don’t just move cash. They fund civil wars. Buy elections. Topple governments. They…don’t think small.”

I scowl. “So what the fuck are they doing in New York rigging up car bombs?”

“That, I’m afraid I don’t know. But Idoknow why they’re in New York in the first place. Rumor has it that there’s a bit of adisagreementwithin the upper ranks of the Obsidian Syndicate. Their current leader—who is only ever referred to as ‘the Marquis’—wants to keep business as usual. Continue to sow chaos and wreak havoc in the more conflicted parts of the world for the right price. There are some in the organization who want to shift to more of a…well,mafiabusiness model, much like your family’s. New York, with its infrastructure, distribution hubs and political ties, would be an ideal spot to begin that transition.”

He takes a breath.

“There’s a U.S.-based shell company that they funnel a lot of their business through, which has offices in NewYork. Cyprus Logistics, LLC.”

I slam the brakes at a red light.

That’s the company Kir was telling me about.

“And there’s nothing else on this Marquis person? You never met him while managing his money?”

Oliver hums. “I did not. I don’t really know who he is. Nobody does. He’s a bit of a cypher. Paranoid. Elusive. But I do know who his current second-in-command is.”

“Really,” I growl, yanking the wheel and tearing around a corner as I speed toward the theater.

“I recently did some light consulting for him—basic trust and money management. All terribly hush-hush, of course.”

“I don’t suppose your newly minted father status gives you a need tosharehis name, does it?”

Oliver chuckles. “He used an alias, of course, while we were doing business.”

Fuck.

“However,” Oliver adds, “we had a few video calls, and I’ve been in this world long enough to know the value ofinsurance. So I screenshotted a few pictures of his face. Just to…have.”

I spin the wheel again, taking another sharp corner and gunning the engine hard.

“What’s that going to cost me?”

Prince laughs quietly. “Mr. Barone, I can assure you, I don’t need your money. This is on the house. Consider it a personal favor in light of our mutual friend.”

Thanks, Stag.

“I’m texting it to you right now.”

I pull over to the side of the road as my phone dings, throw the car in park and open up my texts.

Holy shit.

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