I keep going.
“The name Marchand was given to me by the Brotherhood. They said to dig. So I did. Marchand used to be a handler, low-level when he started his club, but involved in blackmail networks and surveillance. Seraphim is leverage. We’ve actually met him a few times, you and I, casually, of course. ”
Archibald nods slowly. “Compromising material.”
“Exactly. And I think whatever material it is, it's why Martine is in danger.”
I nod. “I didn’t believe it at first. But every path I’ve followed has pointed to something darker happening here. Especially with her uncle, Douglass.”
Archie frowns. “You still think the uncle’s behind it all?”
“Iknowhe is,” I say. “The deeper I dig, the more he shows up. Quietly. Covering things up, freezing assets, pulling favors from people we were trained never to touch.”
“And now he’s contesting Martine’s inheritance?”
“Yeah.”
“And threatening her life.”
I nod once.
He sits with that for a second.
“She’s not stupid, Hayden.”
“No,” I say. “She’s not. That’s why I have to handle this.”
He looks at me. Really looks. “Is this about love, or control?”
I take another sip of vodka. “Does it matter?” This isn’t the conversation I want to have. I can’t even have it with myself. When I think about her and I’m not near, I feel a horribly empty feeling in my stomach. I can’t focus when I feel it.
I start toying with the signet ring on my pinky, trying to clear my head of the swarming thoughts.
“It might in the end.”
I stare him down. “He threatened her. I don’t give a damn if he’s hiding in the Carpathians or buried under a Russian alias, I’ll find him and I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands.”
Archibald lifts both brows. “Possessive.”
I meet his gaze. “Focused.”
He leans back, exhaling through his nose. “So what now? We knock on Marchand’s club door and ask if he remembers what Martine’s mom wore to the orgy?”
I smile. “Yep.”
Archibald snorts. “If that’s what it takes.”
There’s a silence, then.
Not tension. Just understanding.
Archibald finishes his drink and says, “In the future, remind me to marry someone boring with less baggage. Like a schoolteacher.”
I smirk. “You’d corrupt her in a week.”
He grins. “That’s the dream.”
Outside, night falls. The hunt’s still on, but I can feel the net closing.
