Page 22 of The Kings
“David Grenville set her up,” Tarquin says flatly. “North Castle Tower. It was a fucking ambush.”
“And you were there because?”
“She asked me to be back up.”
“Did she,” I murmur, taking note that she isn’t above asking for help when she feels she needs it. Good to know. “Why you?”
He shrugs. “What can I say, we hit it off.”
“Hmm.” I lean against the wall. “David Grenville, that slimy bastard, is getting bolder by the day.”
“Yep.”
“Details, Tarq,” I demand, my tone sharp as broken glass. “Now.”
“His guys were waiting for her—armed to the teeth,” Tarquin continues, his jaw clenching. “We walked right into it. If I hadn’t been there, she would probably have been killed. Not that she didn’t kick ass, but we were outnumbered, which is a kind way of putting it.”
“Fuck,” I growl and slam my fist into the wall. “Dammit, Tarq. Why didn’t you warn us?”
“She didn’t want anyone else there or to know.” He shrugs again, pissing me off.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” he assures me quickly, but his darkened expression tells me it was too close for comfort. “She fought like hell. But we took them down, James. Left more than a few of Grenville’s men bleeding out on that cold stone floor. But Grenville had some mercenary in. Hardened. Tough as shit. He’s playing dirty, which tells me he’s fucking shit scared of her.”
“How did you leave him?”
“Who the giant asshole or Grenville?”
“Both,” I snap, irritated.
“The giant asshole got a knife in the side courtesy of Eliza, and she also took out Grenville but didn’t kill him. He will be back looking for serious revenge.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. “We need to tighten up. She’s unpredictable, and that shit won’t fly—not with the enemies we’ve got circling.”
“Agreed,” Tarquin says, his eyes narrowing. “We can’t afford any loose ends. Not with Eliza in the line of fire.”
“Fuck Damon’s request to stay out of her business. She won’t have any business if she keeps being targeted by unfair play.”
“That’s some heavy fire you’re playing with.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Oh, I agree, I’m just saying it out loud so we can both hear how fucking screwed we are if Hughes finds out.”
Snorting in agreement, I shake my head. “Yeah, well, shit happens. Pivot and adapt, right?”
“Right.” Tarquin’s firm nod is the last thing I see before he disappears up the stairs. The sound of his determined stride fades, and I’m left with the weight of tonight’s revelations.
David Grenville is becoming a thorn in her side. But he’s gone too far this time and needs to be dealt with permanently.
My mind races through options and scenarios where we could take him out without causing an all-out war. It’s got to be clean, untraceable, a ghost strike that leaves everyone whispering our names with fear-laced respect. We don’t just need to kill Grenville; we need to send a message that anyone coming after Eliza—or any of us—is signing their own death warrant.
If there’s one thing I know about planning a hit, the element of surprise turns the tide. This is my legacy, my family’s offering to the criminal underworld. Both my parents are high-level assassins. You don’t see them coming. I’ve been trained for this my whole life, and this is where I shine. Cold. Calculated. Lethal.
“Timing.” Turning over the details like cards in a game of blackjack, I crack my knuckles in a habit that I can’t shake. David Grenville needs to feel safe and complacent—like he’s dodgedthe bullet. We wait, let the tension simmer, then hit when he’s drunk on false security.
Striding into the living room, the time nearing 2 AM, I pause by the window. “Location.” It’s got to be public enough to make an impact yet isolated enough, so our hands stay clean—a gala, a club, hell, even his own goddamn house surrounded by his idiot acolytes.
