Page 8 of Deviant

And besides, work has been demanding, Brethren work that is. This place provides the means, and the Elders are more than happy to provide the fodder to fill it. Stupid Lords and Ladies who think they’re above the rules. All of them are collected and brought here to receive their rightful punishment along with the riffraff.

From the corner of my eye, I see the movement, I see my brother crossing the room, heading directly for me as a pawn darts about behind him.

“You’ve been summoned.” Conrad says quietly as he gets within earshot.

My eyebrow raises and I glance at the skittish man beside him. Pawns are usually more sedate, more controlled. It makes me wonder what shitshow is going down to elicit such a response. He rubs his hands like he’s barely holding it all together and for a moment, I relish that fear in his face.

I get up, following them both out to where more men, more Lords are stood, waiting for me.

“This better be good.” I state. I’m not one for theatrics. I’m not one for drama. And when I said I didn’t want to be disturbed, I meant it. Whatever is going on, it better be earth-shattering to warrant going against my explicit instructions.

“You need to hear this.” Conrad murmurs.

I shoot him a look that tells him to shut the fuck up. He may be my brother, but that doesn’t give him free rein either. He needs to understand that even our name doesn’t guarantee us a free ride. We have enemies, other families who would love to see uscut down. One stupid remark from Conrad, one careless action in front of the wrong eyes could spell our downfall.

He rolls his eyes, showing a flash of disobedience that I’m starting to notice more and more, but I don’t have time to deal with that now.

“What is it?” I bark back.

The men stood before me part and I can see up ahead a man fidgeting, clearly out of place. One look tells me he’s not a Brethren. And yet he’s been permitted entry all the same—that’s a breach I won’t take lightly.

“Flew him up here as soon as I heard.” Maxmillian murmurs into my ear.

“From where?” I ask. Whatever this is, it has to be big for such an action.

“London.”

My eyes narrow on the figure and then they land on the man behind him, the one with the smirk.

Anthony Wallis. Another reaper. One I know by reputation as well as face. This night is getting more interesting by the minute.

He’s not quite as tall as me, and though our jobs mean we’re meant to sustain a high-level physical fitness, it’s clear that he likes to indulge.

“I, I…” the man on his knees stammers as if it’s just sinking in exactly who he is talking to.

“You, what?” I ask.

He gulps, ducking his head, revealing a bald patch on the crown where his light hair is thinning. He’s at least a decade younger than me, at a guess I’d say mid-thirties, but nothing about him suggests he’s anything of worth. His suit is cheap, his shoes are at least polished but nothing to note. This man is a nobody. Nothing. I could pull out my gun, blast his head off, and no one beyond his family would even notice his passing.

He pulls out a folder, shakily hands it to me and I snatch it up, half expecting there to be little of interest, but what I see makes my jaw drop.

Apparently, some journalist is writing an expose, planning to reveal to the world not only that we exist, but that half the world’s leaders alongside CEOs, actors, hell even the US President himself is a damned part of it. And the information she’s got is good. Too good. No way she stumbled upon this by herself, no way she just figured it all out. No, she had help. Inside help at that.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask.

“We found it on her computer.” he half-whispers.

“We?”

“I,” he says. “I found it. I tried to talk to her, to make her stop…”

The look on my face silences him. That’s not his place. He’s not there to act on our behalf. He’s there as an informant. He’s there to help maintain the status quo. Stupid fuck has clearly gotten too big for his boots. Perhaps he’s convinced himself he’s one of us? One of the Brethren, when he’s so low down the pecking order even the black masked girls in my club hold more sway.

“Get out.” I say.

He blinks, looking to Anthony as if he has a say in this.

With a jerk of my head, I have him hauled out. I know he won’t do anything, I know he’s too much of a coward to say a word to the woman in question, but thisisserious. At least, on some level. Oh, we’ve had threats like this before, stupid people who somehow think they can outwit us. But every time we’ve been quick enough to eliminate them before any serious damage occurs.

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