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Laughing, I glance once more at the screen. Valentina has yet to take a break and readies for another leap.
I should text her—
No, damn. How desperate can I be?
Throwing on a black shirt, I step into my black boots and turn my phone off.
6
BRIAR
Grabbing a few electronics, I shove them into my pockets before stepping into the elevator. At the bottom is the covered parking, and I keep my head down as I cross to my sports car. No one is here, but I can’t be too careful.
The lights on my Bugatti Chiron Super Sport 300+ flash. I sit in it, and the engine turns over; the throttle so deep, it could be a man telling me to sit down and be quiet, and I’d listen. It’s full of power, and completely ostentatious—just the kind of thing I like. What’s the point in having millions from illegal activity if not to use it to buy pretty toys?
I whip out of the garage and through the tight city streets. The tinted windows hide me as the pedestrians all stop to gawk. A few snap photos, and it takes only seconds for me to sail out of the city.
Here, the air is cooler, cleaner. The grass grows thicker, and people all avoid the awkward conversation about money. No one is innocent.
I stop before the gates of the O’Brien mansion and grip the steering wheel, knuckles white.
The last time I was here, it was to save Maeve. And that took more courage than I’ve ever had in my life.
My last conversation with Ferguson haunts me. I accused him of selling his daughter to his best friend—a man twice her age—and threatened him if he didn’t stop.
Ferguson didn’t appreciate that. He rushed me, throwing me through the office doors into the foyer. At some point, I crashed into the very same coat of arms hanging on the wall that’s inked onto my chest.
The problem is, I’m my father’s son. We share a hostility that’s born in our bones. We thirst for violence and blood. Until that point, I had only unleashed that fury on kids at school.
That night, my father found out firsthand how hard I could hit.
I don’t remember how many times my fist connected with his jaw, or when my knuckles split. I saw red, tasted the anger on my tongue. It seeps up from some evil place, and twists everything around into a monster. And I used it to pummel Ferguson into a mess of flesh and shards of bone. It took five guards to pull fifteen-year-old me off him, and with a gurgle, he had me banned.
I didn’t have time to grab my things or breathe before they shoved me out. It was Maeve, returning home from a run, who kept me from truly disappearing.
Being back on this property, those memories assault me. The fear. The pain. The rage. They choke me down, threatening to kill me. Which sucks because I’m actually into a bit of breath play. But not by my demons.
The gates swing open, and I gun it, racing toward the door. Adrenaline slams into my chest, and I grin, spinning the car along the gravel. The tiny pebbles pelt the windows and doors.
Laughing, I cut the engine and enter the mansion. The guards side-eye me, and I wink.
“Easy, boys. I’m not here to have anyone killed.”
Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.
Hayes stalks from the office, hair pulled into a messy knot on top of his head. The hitter is tall, muscular, and looks like a Viking from the old days. Half his body is inked in runes and Old Norse for his mother’s heritage, and they glint, exposed in his short-sleeved Henley.
He rubs his beard. “That was quick.”
“Do you want my traffic report?”
He shakes his head, waving me forward. “Not tonight, kid.”
Leading me into the office, I brace for old memories to attack me. Of old cigar smoke, seedy business deals, and unimaginable suffering, but it doesn’t come. I tilt my head, glancing at the surprising changes.
Maeve has me watching the cameras here, but she purposely left a few rooms off my duties. The office, for one. Her bedroom, another one. Thank God.
The office is different. It’s painted a rich purple, with bookshelves full of old classics and gothic statues. It smells clean—with a faint tinge of my sister’s floral perfume. A few of her prized stuffed bugs sit on the walls. Hand-sketched, unique pictures hang in golden frames behind the desk. Flowing flowers, thick woods. Another is a flight of ravens in the sky.
