Page 72 of Playing with Fire

"Finally," Xander approved, pushing off from the wall to move closer to Walsh. "At least we can all agree on Lindsey Stirling. Hating on that is unamerican."

Maxime cleared his throat.

"Keep your objections to yourself, Frenchie," Xion growled.

Maxime's spine stiffened to military straightness, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drew himself up. "I'm Québécois," he corrected with precise, clipped consonants.

Xander wrinkled his nose. "Wait…You're Canadian? I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?"

"The stereotype is that we arepolite, Mr. Laskin," Maxime replied with glacial formality. "Politeness is a social convention. It has nothing to do with being nice."

Algerone's lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement I'd ever seen on his face. "Perhaps we could return to the matter at hand?"

Walsh's eyes widened further, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as the music's intensity built. "Please," he tried again, voice cracking. "I only met Burns twice. He contacted me through an encrypted messaging app. Paid half upfront, half upon completion."

"And what exactly were you meant to complete?" I asked, stepping closer. The violin melody merged with electronic beats, synchronizing with the throbbing in my temple.

"Just... disable certain security protocols. Give him access to the east service corridor. That's it! I swear!"

His role had likely been minimal. People like Walsh were just cogs in a machine, carefully kept ignorant by people like Burns. But that didn't absolve him. That didn't cleanse the blood from his hands.

"Your actions nearly got Leo killed," I said, my voice dropping dangerously low. "Your greed put everyone at risk."

"It was just—I didn't think anyone would get hurt!" Walsh's eyes darted frantically between my face and Algerone's, searching for the mercy he wouldn't find. “He said he just wanted to talk!”

Algerone sighed, the sound almost lost beneath the rising music. "Mr. Walsh, we're not particularly interested in what you thought." He flexed his hand, brass knuckles gleaming under the sterile lights. "We're interested in making sure you understand the consequences of your choices."

Algerone unleashed a vicious blow to Walsh's floating ribs. The sound it made was a sickening, wet crack. Walsh doubled over as far as his restraints would allow, a high-pitched wheeze escaping him as he fought for breath.

"My son nearly died today," Algerone continued calmly, brushing a speck of blood from his knuckles while Walsh gasped like a fish on land. "His partner was threatened. My trusted assistant was injured. And you facilitated all of it."

I moved to stand behind Walsh, mirroring Algerone's earlier position. "You let Phoenix into our sanctuary. You sold us out. Sold Leo out."

Walsh couldn't even twist to look at me, still struggling to regain his breath after Algerone's strike. "Please," he wheezed. "I needed the money!"

"Perhaps you should have focused more on living within your means," Maxime said, fingers racing across the surface of his tablet. "Gambling debts. A waterfront vacation condo. And..." He made a face. "Apparently, a very expensive taste in escorts."

"So you betrayed us for a fucking lifestyle upgrade?" I growled, the rage surging fresh in my veins.

"How disappointingly predictable," Algerone observed coldly.

He landed another blow, this one across Walsh's face. The brass knuckles carved a path from cheekbone to jaw, leaving a trail of split skin in their wake. Blood immediately welled up, running down Walsh's face in crimson rivulets. The smell of copper filled the air, mingling with the scent of Walsh's fear-sweat and the expensive cologne Algerone wore.

"You're not the only one Burns turned," I said, yanking Walsh's head back by his hair. "Who else? How deep does this go?"

Walsh's blood-streaked face contorted with fear. "Maybe... Jones in east wing security. I saw them talking once. And Chelle in communications might be involved too. I overheard them on a call that sounded suspicious."

"Maxime," Algerone said, not looking away from Walsh.

"Already flagged and detained, sir," Maxime responded, fingers still moving across his tablet. "We're replacing the entire shift with personnel I've personally vetted."

"Excellent work, Maxime." Algerone's eyes lingered on Maxime a moment longer than necessary, a subtle concern in his gaze that seemed at odds with his otherwise detached demeanor.

The efficiency of their operation was impressive, even while watching them handle a breach in their ranks. I filed this away, another similarity between Algerone and myself. Neither of us tolerated betrayal, and both of us had contingencies for everything. Though it seemed Algerone might have one particular vulnerability I hadn't noticed before.

I studied Walsh. "Where would Burns go? If he needed to regroup, operate from somewhere. Where?"

Walsh shrugged helplessly, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. "How the fuck would I know? I'm just security. He never told me anything like that."

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