Calder
The silencethat follows Roman’s words is absolute.
It stretches for seconds that feel like hours, thick and suffocating as smoke. I can feel Saint’s hand locked around mine under the table, her pulse racing against my palm. I can feel my brothers’ eyes on me, their shock and confusion and betrayal bleeding into the air like poison.
And I feel nothing.
Not fear. Not panic. Not the hot rush of adrenaline that usually comes when everything goes to hell. Just a strange, cold calm settling over me like fresh snow.
Because the worst has happened. The secret is out. Roman knows.
And now I’m free.
Free from the weight of the lies. Free from the constant vigilance, the paranoia, the exhausting work of keeping every plate spinning. Free from the illusion that I might survive this intact. I’m going to die tonight. Maybe not in the next five minutes, maybe not even in the next hour. But Roman will kill me for this betrayal. That’s not a question. It’s a fact, as certainas the mountains outside these windows and as inevitable as winter.
The only thing that matters now is making sure Saint walks out of here alive.
I reach for my wineglass with my free hand, bringing it to my lips. The red liquid tastes like copper and oak. I swallow slowly, deliberately, then set the glass down with a soft clink.
“So.” My voice comes out steady. Almost conversational. “How long have you known?”
Roman’s cold smile widens. He settles back in his chair at the head of the table, looking pleased with himself. Like a cat that’s finally cornered the mouse and wants to savor the moment before the kill.
“Does it matter?”
“Curious, is all.”
“Long enough.” He picks up his own glass and swirls the wine. “Did you really think you could coordinate with federal agents without me finding out? That you could plant recording devices, have secret meetings, pass information, and I wouldn’t notice?”
The wire burns against my chest. Still recording. Still transmitting. Reese is hearing all of this, wherever she is. Hearing Roman confirm everything. It’s not the way I planned it, but it’s something. Maybe enough.
“You’ve always underestimated me, Calder. All of you have.” Roman’s gaze sweeps the table, touching Sawyer, Kade, and Levi. “You think because I drink, because I delegate the dirty work, that I’m not paying attention. But I see everything. I always have.”
Sawyer sits frozen across the table, his analytical mind probably racing through scenarios, calculating odds and outcomes. His face is carefully blank, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the white-knuckle grip he has on his fork.
Levi is on the other side of Saint, closer than I’d like. His easy charm has evaporated, replaced by something harder. Younger. The kid who used to follow me around, asking questions, wanting to be just like his big brother. That look in his eyes now feels like a knife between my ribs.
And Kade. Kade sits to Roman’s right, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. His hands are flat on the table, fingers spread wide like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for his gun. Of all my brothers, Kade’s always been the most loyal to Roman. The most eager for his approval. The most willing to do whatever it takes to earn it.
Looking at him now, seeing the betrayal and rage warring in his expression, I know he’ll be the first one to pull the trigger when Roman gives the order.
“You want to know what I think?” Roman continues, taking a long drink from his glass. The alcohol is already affecting him. I can hear it in the slight slur of his words, see it in the loose way he’s holding himself. He’s been drinking since before we arrived, working himself up to this confrontation. “I think you’ve gone soft. I think you let that little cunt between your legs scramble your brains until you forgot who you are. Forgot what this family stands for.”
Saint flinches beside me. I squeeze her hand, willing her to stay quiet. To not draw his attention any more than she already has.
“I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“No?” Roman leans forward, elbows on the table. “Then explain to me why you would betray your own blood. Why you would work with the FBI to destroy everything your grandfather built? Everything I’ve spent thirty years protecting and growing. Explain that to me, son.”
The word “son” drips with contempt.
I meet his eyes across the table. And we’re more alike than I’ve ever wanted to admit.
“You want an explanation?” I keep my voice level. Calm. “Fine. You terrorize this town. You run illegal operations that put innocent people at risk. There are any number of sins you should answer for.”
“Tradition,” Roman interrupts, “that has kept this family strong for four generations.”
“Tradition that’s turned us into monsters.”
