Page 157 of Covenant

Wylder doesn’t flinch. “Like I said, all requests.”

“We do assess them first,” Samson adds gruffly. “We won’t hurt anyone who is completely innocent or undeserving. We have some morals.”

“Yes,” Wylder nods. “And if someone who’s a dick asks for something…let’s just say that the price they pay will be suitably fitting.”

“So, you’re basically the judges, juries, and executioners of St. Dismas,” I say, crossing my ankles as I meet Wylder’s gaze head-on. “Do you think that’s okay?”

I’m not judging them. I’m genuinely curious to know their thoughts, their belief system. I’m already fully behind them—my love for Matt has determined that.

But I can’t deny I’d like to understand them a little better.

“I think it’s something none of us have had a say in,” Wylder says carefully. “The Firm was originally established to counter a corrupt government. There was no sense of justice in the city. The Firm was set up to provide that.”

“And we still do to this day,” Cade says. “None of us chose this life, we were born into it.”

My gaze sweeps over the six brothers as I wonder what they might’ve become without The Firm. “But what’s to stop you giving it up now?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” Wylder shrugs. “But I think we all appreciate that we can make people’s lives happier while also taking out the trash.”

“And some of uslovetaking out the trash.” The grin Cade flashes me is unsettling.

“Justice and democracy are two things easily corrupted,” Matt says quietly, his thumb stroking over my hand. “Money equals power. We have both to spare. By granting the requests of those in need, we’re giving something back.”

Jackson speaks up at that. “By murdering people?”

Matt gives him a tight smile. “Believe it or not, that kind of request doesn’t come in often. When it does, it’s usually from a woman desperate to escape her abusive husband. Or someone who’s been assaulted and the system has failed to bring them to justice. That’s where we step in. And, sometimes, we use it to send a message to others. A warning that, where the courts fail, we will not.”

“Like the fucker I hung from the overpass last year,” Cade says darkly. “He’d been trafficking women. Someone whose sister had been snatched right off the street gave us the tip-off and asked us to make him pay.”

“So we did,” Wylder continues. “Or rather, Cade did. And in doing so, sent a stark warning to the rest of the gang of the fate that awaited them should they continue in their endeavors.”

It’s strange to hear Wylder describing such horrific things in his measured, verbose manner. It makes me wonder how much of the other brothers I truly know.

“What was the person’s price?” Jackson asks. “The one who gave you a tip-off.”

“He was asked to donate the money we deposited in his account to the charity he’d set up to fight against human trafficking,” Wylder says.

Jackson frowns. “That doesn’t seem like much of a price. Feels like a bonus if you ask me.”

Dalton sits forward. “We have togivea price because, if we didn’t, it’d become a free-for-all. But that doesn’t mean every request is worthy of one. Sometimes, in cases like that, the person deserves to be helped. The last thing they need is for more trouble to land in their lap.”

“Most of the requests are like the one Wy made,” Matt says. “Money to help an injured or sick relative. That sort of thing.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Wyatt is happy with the price he paid,” Jackson says before reflecting on it and then wincing. “Or maybe not, considering the epic mourning he went through when you broke up.”

“Matthias was just as pathetic,” Dalton drawls.

“I’m happy that was my price,” I say, surprising myself as I do so. I turn my head to meet Matt’s gaze, offering him a soft smile. “I was pissed at the time, but I’m glad everything happened exactly as it did. If it hadn’t, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. Together. I’d go through it over and over again to be with you.”

He grins softly. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Shall we get started now?” Samson asks, pulling the tray in front of him and grabbing a cigar. “Before all this sickening lovey-dovey bullshit makes me vomit everywhere?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jackson says. “I’m going to kick your asses. All of them.”

My fingers twine around Matt’s, and he smiles at me.

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