Page 98 of Forbidden Empire
"Where's Esme hiding?" and "What the fuck did you do to her?"
Each one deflected with practiced indifference.
I'd sooner walk barefoot through hellfire than position myself between blood relatives with unfinished business.
Zeno's reflection glared back from the polished tabletop.
Shoulders bunched beneath his tailored jacket, jaw muscles working like he was grinding glass between his teeth.
His fingers curled into bloodless fists against the armrests, trembling with barely contained violence.
Ares maintained his post at my right flank, eyes constantly scanning, cataloging, assessing, my human security system with a trigger finger.
Four crystal snifters sat untouched between us, amber liquid catching the low light, condensation sliding down expensive glass like nervous sweat.
Thal's fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the armrest. Zeno's jaw twitched. I caught myself holding my breath.
The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. We watched each other's hands, tracked each subtle shift in posture, listened for the slightest change in breathing. Three predators sharing the same cage.
We carried matching bullet scars, different locations, same caliber.
Had pulled each other from burning buildings and wiped blood off marble floors together. Our truce was written in scar tissue, not paper.
Zeno still wouldn't drink anything I poured him. Thal kept his back to the wall whenever we met.
I never sat without a clear path to the door. And here we were, because our empires had grown so entangled that cutting one free would collapse them all.
Vegas had forced our hands together, fingers interlaced but palms never quite touching. This meeting wasn't about friendship. It was survival, ugly, necessary, and inevitable.
The blueprints of Rhea's compound lay spread across the table between us, each hallway and exit point marked in red.
Three kings of Las Vegas, leaning over the same map like generals plotting an invasion. I held nothing back, every detail, every weakness I'd discovered.
Not out of loyalty. Not out of friendship. In our world, information was currency, and I was investing. They'd do the same if Rhea had targeted me first.
I jabbed at the blueprint, my fingertip leaving a sweaty print on Rhea's compound perimeter.
"Divided, we're dead men. Simple math." The whiskey burned in my throat as I swallowed. "She's holed up near Blue Diamond for now, but Rhea never stays put. Always three steps ahead, always watching us scramble." I dragged my finger across each entry point marked with crimson X's. "Guards at every door, every window, every goddamn air duct. You try going in alone?" I locked eyes with each man around the table. "They'll mail pieces of you back to Vegas for weeks."
Thal sank deeper into his leather chair, face carved from stone. "We approach this strategically.”
I nearly laughed. Fucking obvious. I bit my tongue, but Zeno had no such restraint.
"Strategy?" Zeno's fist crashed onto the table, rattling the whiskey glasses. "I want her bleeding out at my feet."
Each word escaped through clenched teeth, something feral lurking behind his eyes, something that had tasted blood before and wanted more.
My molars ground together as heat crawled up my neck. These peacocking bastards would get us all killed with their dick-measuring.
"Both," I sliced through their bullshit. "We move smart, we move lethal. One shot, clean execution. Rhea disappears, andeverything she built?" I spread my hands. "Becomes ours for the taking."
Zeno's shoulder rolled in a dismissive shrug while Thal lifted his whiskey to his lips, sipping with calculated slowness, eyes narrowed to slits.
The silence stretched taut between us. When I caught Ares's gaze, I recognized the readiness in his posture, the slight forward lean, the hand positioned inches from his holster.
His eyes flicked between the other two men, assessing threats, but I felt no concern. These men might fantasize about putting bullets in me, but they wouldn't.
Our empires were too intertwined, our secrets too deeply buried together. They'd sooner cut off their own hands than destroy the man who kept their worlds intact.
