She nods, stepping into the room with the slow caution of a bomb squad. She knows better than to prod.
I reach for the whiskey bottle on the side table. Pour a finger’s width into the glass, not offering her any.
My hands are steady, but only because I will them to be.
She backs out of the office, silent. When the door clicks shut, I let myself sink into the chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose until the world blurs.
Kazimir knows exactly how to bait a trap.
I just have to decide if I’m willing to step in with both feet.
The phone buzzes again—one new message, no caller ID.
I open it, already expecting the worst.
There’s a photo.
Sienna, smiling with a boy. My boy.
I can’t sit around any longer.
I don’t say goodbye to Rosalynn. I don’t have to.
I leave her with the numbers, the safety of being in this house where the Corsinis don’t know where to look, and the implicit threat that if she leaves, she’ll likely be killed.
I head straight out the door with Jensen and the Bentley purrs to life before my ass hits the seat.
He drives today because if I do, I’ll end up hitting someone.
I’m that riled up.
Every block is packed, every intersection a potential ambush. It takes forty minutes to get to The Black Crown, to the meeting with my brothers.
It’s already packed, but that’s not my issue.
The back room is what matters.
No windows, just a stainless-steel table bolted to the floor, six folding chairs, and weapons in drawers, just in case.
Korrin’s there already, one boot up on the table, knife out, like usual.
He grunts when I walk in.
Cyrus is in the far corner, suit crisp, glasses off, analyzing a stack of photos.
I throw my phone on the table, hit play, and let Kazimir’s voice fill the room.
I watch my brothers, not the screen.
Korrin’s lips peel back from his teeth on the first threat.
When he hears Sienna, the knife stops spinning.
By the time Kazimir mentions the boy, his hand is white around the blade.
Cyrus doesn’t move at all.
He just cocks his head and lets the audio wash over him, fingers tapping out code on the table in Morse.