I couldn’t trust that Ace cared at all.
“Are you visiting, Maverick, or staking a claim in our part of the woods?” One of the guests asked. He was a newer participant in the Ring by the name Emery Count, and he was leaning on the table edge before Ace. I wondered, by the sideways looks we were getting from the few packs nearby, if he’d been shoved over to dig for information.
“I’ve decided to follow my mate into another venture.” Ace shrugged. “But our circles have crossed a few times. I’m sure there are a few in here that noticed when I vanished—perhaps some were even on the edge of their seats with worry when rumour had it I’d died.”
Worried?
I mulled that over, noticing a stiffening spine from Kent Larson, who was clearly hanging onto every word.
“I heard a few others in here bid on her…” Ace mused.
Emery chuckled nervously, eyes darting around for a moment. “Not me.”
“What do you think they would have done if they’d won that bid?” Ace asked, hand drifting along Thistle’s arm where one of his bites lingered, raw and ruby red for the world to see. Thistle was watching Emery curiously.
“I… couldn’t even begin to guess,” Emery said, meeting Thistle’s eyes for a moment, before snapping them back to Ace as if he’d made a mistake.
“Perhaps they wanted her so they could keep her safe,” he said. There were so many guests hanging onto every word again that the tension in the place was palpable once more.“Perhapsthey were worried about the fate of the leader of the Brotherhood,” he went on. “I’ve had a few of yours over, after all. And you’re such a welcoming group… I can see many in here are pleased, knowing I’m alright.”
I blinked, working through what he was saying—words clearly not for Emery anymore, who now looked like he wanted to flee, eyes unsure where to settle.
Did Ace have intel on people in here?
I shot a glance at Rogue before I could stop myself, and he returned the look by half, expression set to thoughtful.
Had there been people in here afraid that, upon his death, their secrets might have been released? How tight of a hold did Ace have on those he had dirt on? When I gathered intel on the Ring, I didn’t inform them—building a case for something bigger. But Ace had no reason to hold back. For his secrets to hold value, he would have had to tell them when he knew.
I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the thread of tension in the room becoming taut. Bella’s eyes, even from the other side of the table now, still drifted back to Ace, no matter how hard she was trying to focus on the fight on the screen.
I could feel it, just like everyone else could. Something in the air was different—as if everyone had to look twice at the people around them.
As Emery fumbled an excuse and hurried off, it occurred to me that the people in this room were perfect prey for Ace. He was used to fighting in the underworld with monsters, but members of the Ring still had everything to lose. They worshipped at the altar of status and image. It made them uniquely vulnerable to the unknown thread Ace was weaving around the room.
“Rogue?” Thistle’s voice dragged me from my musings as she stumbled from Ace’s lap and up onto Rogue’s.
“Yes, Kitten?”
“What, uh… what are you doing?” Her voice dropped as she glanced at the chain in his hand, then to me, still kneeling on the marble.
Rogue raised his eyebrows, matching her low, private whisper. “My job. Who was asking for a show tonight?”
“Could it be a show without him, like… all the way down there?”
Rogue snorted. “A mediocre one.”
“Okay.” Again, she glanced at me, chewing on her lip, then glanced away. “But uh… are there other options?”
“Kitten?” Rogue asked, brow furrowed.
“Yup?”
“Did he set you on me?”
“What does that mean?” Her whisper was too high-pitched to be believable.
“Are you trying to defend his dignity?”
She leaned in, voice an even quieter whisper I only just caught. “If you keep being so mean, he’s gonna spank me raw.”