“They’ll come for her if we take him without permission,” Archie says. “You know that, right?”
I don’t answer.
He leans in closer, more insistent now. “If Ford’s still under their jurisdiction, and we pull him out, we don’t just piss them off. We break the contract or breach the Blood Oath, then we strip them of a Legacy asset. Anyways—where the hell is Dex?”
“I don’t know, he went off script, went dark. I haven't heard from him since that night.” I mumble, honest for once.
Hudson is silent beside me, but I feel the tension in his body shift. They still don’t realise the risk she’s in either way, the risk I put her in when I took her for myself.
“How the hell are we going to get him out?” Archie presses. “You think we just walk into the Brotherhood’s house and ask? You think they’ll hand him over because your wife is upset she doesn’t get her brother?”
“They’ll negotiate,” I say finally, knowing the most significant negotiation of all is the one for my wife’s safety.
Hudson finally joins in and snorts. “Since when does the Brotherhood negotiate?”
“Since always,” I snap. “They don’t care about loyalty. They care about control. And control can always be bought.”
Hudson glances at me. “So what are we offering?”
I stare ahead, the mausoleum growing larger, colder, more inevitable with every passing second.
“My name,” I say. “My position. I have the information they want, and I plan on using it.”
Archie leans back, jaw pulling into a mocking smile, “So, in short, we don’t have a plan. Great.”
The car falls into silence again, filled only with the sound of a lighter as Hudson takes a drag from his cigarette.
We all have roles within the Brotherhood, but the Brotherhood is about power. There’s nothing we can do other than give something up in exchange.
Because they will negotiate, and I’ll pay the price.
Whatever it is.
The tires crunch over the gravel as we pull up to the mausoleum, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and dying leaves. It’s colder here, even with the sun high in the sky.
This day feels never-ending.
The building looms ahead, carved from limestone. Ivy curls around the base, as if trying to strangle the structure from below.
I cut the engine and step out first. The silence is deafening as I pull out a flask from my sports coat pocket. I take a hefty swig and pass it to Archie, who takes his gulp and passes it to Hudson, who I’m certain finishes the rest once I feel the weight of it after he passes it back to me.
We all look at each other for a moment before nodding once and moving.
Archie and Hudson follow, weapons tucked but close. We don’t speak as we approach the doors. None of us knows what we came here to do, but I walk with my brothers at my side regardless.
I push the heavy iron door open with both hands. The hinges groan in protest.
Inside, it’s dark, the scent of old wax and stone settling into my lungs like dust. The inner chamber is lit only by scattered candlelight.
We walk down the corridor to the meeting room and, luckily, find the Chairman already seated in the center.
I step forward, shoulders squared.
“You have someone I want,” I say. “And I’d like to make a trade.”
My ego and arrogance are loud, but the Brotherhood is built on trust and dedication. If I’m negotiating for something, they’ll hear my side and evaluate. I have to negotiate for my wife's safety and for her brother's. The complexities are not lost on me, as I focus solely on getting my wife safe.
There’s a pause. Then Chairman Creekmore’s voice, smooth and cold, “Nothing was taken. He submitted himself willingly as required of a Legacy.”
