Page 19

Yale looks hurt. Xavier’s angry. I’m a little of both. It’d be easier to just kill him, because listening to him beg won’t be easy for any of us.

But we’re owed answers.

“I was being smart for once.”

“Think carefully before you lie to me again,” I say. “My patience is wearing thin.”

Grant steps forward. “I swear, Z⁠—”

I seize the back of his neck and slam his face into the bar. The loud crack tells me his nose is likely broken, and when I release him, he slides to his knees, clutching his face.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Grant. I’m already way past pissed off.” He sobs, seeming to shrink before my eyes as he kneels before me. My friend. A man I trusted with my life. “You’ve been receiving bank transfers for the last three months, and we’re not talking a bit of cash, Grant. Who are they from, and what are they for?”

He shakes his head, showing me his sweat-slicked palms as if he has nothing to hide. “I swear, Z, it isn’t what you think.”

I gesture at him. “Then explain.”

He remains on the floor, looking up at me, his face smeared with sweat and blood.

I didn’t want this to be true. When I discovered his debt was gone, I hoped he’d come to me and tell me the good news, but the fact he kept it a secret told me everything. It’s bad fucking timing that I got confirmation tonight, but at least we can find out exactly how badly he’s betrayed us.

“Some guy contacted me.” He begins, wiping tenderly at his bleeding nose. “By phone. We never met, and he offered me help. I was in real shit this time, and I couldn’t ask you to bail me out again, Z. So … I took the cash. He said all I had to do was be available if he needed me.”

I resist the urge to hurt him again, because that’s how it always starts. He fucking knows it’s never that simple, but he did it anyway.

“Then he asked for more?” I ask, and Grant nods tearfully. “Text Yale the number he contacted you on. Yale, send it to Cleo.”

Grant is trembling as he does as I ask, and Yale gets to work. “Is this why you were leaving?” I ask. “You knew I’d find out.”

“No, I …” He shrivels even further into himself. “Yes.”

“Fucking coward,” I bite out, moving to stand before him. “You could’ve come to me at any fucking point, Grant. You could’ve told me the goddamn truth. You’re one of my oldest friends!”

He winces at the boom of my voice, the words reverberating off the walls. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry … I⁠—”

“What did he want?” Xavier asks, remarkably calm given how much I know he’ll want to hurt Grant right now. I didn’t voice my suspicions to my brothers at first, only texting them the truth when I found out at the dinner table. They’ve have had no time to digest this. For Yale, that means silence. For Xavier—rage. Grant doesn’t answer. “Grant, the level of pain I inflict on you is dependent upon how much you hold out on us. You’ve seen how I work. Unless you want to end up like that, fucking talk.”

Tears flow free now, and Grant wipes a trembling hand across his bloodied nose and mouth. He focuses on me, not Xavier. “I swear, I was only watching her, Z.”

Spikes of anxiety scatter down my spine, and I stiffen quickly. “Who?”

Grant sobs. “Silence.”

My words feel stuck in my throat, but I look at Xavier. “Room nine-oh-five-five. Get her out of this building.”

He’s gone before I can finish speaking, and my phone rings. Yale answers for me.

“Why were you watching her?” I demand. Grant is still sobbing, and I grip the back of his neck and drag him to his feet. “Tell me, or I’ll pay Monica a visit, I swear to fucking God.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, Z⁠—”

“You hurt my family, I hurt yours.” Still, he doesn’t answer. He struggles, whimpering, and I use my other hand to grip his throat. “You have five seconds to tell me, Grant.” No answer. Not even an attempt. Just a terrified, wide-eyed stare that stokes the fire in my belly. Picking up Xavier’s abandoned shot glass, I shove it into Grant’s mouth and keep a firm grip on his hair. “You’re gonna regret that.”

I’m just about to smash his face into the bar again when Yale puts my phone on speaker.

Cleo’s voice fills the room. “Ryker Blake. That’s who the number belongs to. But Z⁠—”

“Who is he?”