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Payne stepped forward. “All I want to know is why?” he asked. “Why abduct me, torture me, ruin my life? You already had everything; you truly didn’t need the title, did you?”

For a moment, Townsend’s attention shifted from Leila to his cousin, and something almost human flickered across his features. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“If it helps,” he said, his voice dropping to something approaching genuine regret, “you were never the target. It was simply a mistake. A coincidence.”

Payne’s jaw tightened, his hand unconsciously moving to the hilt of his sword. “Good to know.”

Gideon moved to stand directly in front of the bound man, close enough that Townsend had to crane his neck back to meet his gaze.

“How many members of the Brotherhood are there?” he asked in a soft, conversational tone.

Townsend’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes focusing on some point over Gideon’s shoulder as if the question hadn’t been asked at all.

“Are there other factions operating on the Continent?” Gideon continued, undeterred by the lack of response.

Still nothing. Townsend might as well have been carved from stone for all the reaction he showed.

“Are you working for someone, or are you the leader of all of this?” Then he paused and asked the question that mattered to him the most. “Who killed my family?”

Something came to life in Townsend’s features, and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. But he remained silent, relishing the fact that he was riling them all up. He enjoyed being tortured, being asked questions. He felt powerful this way.

And Gideon refused to give him more power.

If there were any more answers to get, it wasn’t within Townsend.

Gideon straightened and turned to address the Shadows who had been standing guard by the windows and doorway.

“Clear out,” he ordered, his voice carrying the snap of absolute command. “Take all the documents with you—every scrap of paper, every ledger, every map from that secret chamber. Leave nothing that might be useful to anyone else.”

The operatives moved swiftly, gathering armloads of papers. Within minutes, the hidden study had been stripped of everything that might provide intelligence about the Brotherhood’s operations.

As the last of his people filed out, Gideon turned to Leila, with Emir still leaning heavily on her supporting arm. “Please go, too,” Gideon said gently. “St. John will help you out of this house while I have a last word with our captive.”

Leila seemed to immediately understand the implications of his words. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll stay with you. Emir, you should go, though.”

“I am not leaving you, Abla,” he said weakly.

“I will be right behind you. Go.”

St. John took the young man by the arm and whispered something to him. Emir allowed himself to be led away, though he looked back over his shoulder with obvious reluctance.

Payne moved to stay by the door but refused to leave either. He deserved to see what happened to his cousin. He deserved to say the last word if he wanted to. He deserved closure.

Only then did Gideon turn his full attention back to their captive.

“You can maintain your silence as long as you want,” he said conversationally. “The thing is, I already know what you’ve done. I know about the people you’ve killed, the lives you’ve destroyed, the suffering you’ve caused.” He paused, his voice taking on a hard edge. “And the simple fact that you hurt Leila is reason enough for me to kill you.”

For the first time since his capture, Townsend spoke, his voice carrying a note of condescending superiority that grated against every nerve. “I don’t kill people,” he said, his gaze flickering meaningfully between Gideon and Leila. “Unlike some people.”

Leila stepped forward, her dark eyes flashing with an anger that transformed her features into something fierce and dangerous. “Right,” she said. “You only direct others to kill, blackmail them, run child brothels, sell humans like cattle, and order people to kill your cousin for the title—all so you can lead a wealthy life while pretending to be pathetic. Which you are.”

Townsend’s smile was cold and calculating. “Yes, I commanded others, but you were always free to walk away,” he said, each word chosen for maximum impact. “Every mission, every assignment—you chose to accept them. No one forced you.”

“That is true,” Leila acknowledged, her voice steady. “You never forced me. You just made it clear what would happen to me if I didn’t comply.”

“You could have run,” Townsend continued. “Hidden somewhere I couldn’t find you. You always had choices, and you chose to stay by my side, to be my weapon, my whore.”

Gideon stepped forward, rage building inside him, ready to tear the bastard apart. Leila grabbed his arm, and Townsend’s gaze fell on her hand. A curious glint appeared in his eyes, and he couldn’t hide a smirk.