Page 106 of Fortress of the King

I’m empty inside, there’s only darkness.

“Someone better tell me that they got a lead on the guy who made the drop,” I mutter.

I feel like killing someone tonight, and maybe I will.

The only way I know control is by taking it. Grasping it in my hands and molding it into any fucking shape I like. And I thought I was good at it, until this moment.

“Rocco and Santino are watching him as we speak,” Enzo goes on, straightening out his tie.

“And?” I demand.

“He went into Russian territory. They have him under surveillance,” he says. “They’ll bring him in without detection.”

“The trouble with that is he’ll be missed if he doesn’t report back,” Marco interjects.

Enzo nods. “Got it covered. They’ll grab him when he’s off the hook and heading home, no one will be any the wiser.”

I walk across the open space, trying to make sense of my next move.

I’ve let my purpose slip by the wayside. I’ve let my feelings get away with me.

Well, no more. It ends here.

If this whole experience has taught me anything, it’s that there is no one I can trust outside of my immediate circle. The one thing that Mario taught me long after my father died was to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. No truer words were spoken. I just never figured he meant women in my bed too.

“I need to talk to Mario,” I mutter as Marco nods in agreeance.

“What are you going to do with her at Falmouth?” Enzo pours us all two fingers of scotch into crystal tumblers as I turn to face him.

I’ve got ways of making people talk, but never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I’d be using the powers of seduction to subdue an enemy. And I never imagined I’d be using them against Rayne.

She’s at my mercy now, God help her.

I’m not like Enzo. There are no second chances. There are no words that can make any of this better.

Rayne Michaelson will pay… even as I think the very words, my insides curdle at what I know I should do.

Enzo crosses the room and hands me my glass.

He frowns. “I know that look.”

I smirk, throwing back my scotch, reveling in the feeling when it burns the back of my throat.

I swear, I get my best ideas when I’m under siege, and I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner.

And then I laugh, tipping my head back as I pinch the bridge of my nose. My voice echoing across the room and off the thick, cement walls.

I see Enzo and Marco exchange glances.

“Fucking brilliant,” I mutter more to myself than anyone else.

“He’s finally cracked,” Marco mumbles, throwing his scotch back, sensing the storm brewing.

I pace the room again, my back to them.

“I know what I have to do in order for the little fish to catch the big fish.”

“Aside from stringing her up and torturing her?” Marco’s frown deepens.

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