“Exactly.” He nods. “Five points to Hufflepuff.”
There goes the beer I’m about to drink. Right out my nose and onto the polished wooden surface in front of me.
The room roars with laughter while I struggle to relearn how to breathe. Assholes. The lot of them. My stomach clenches and my chest aches as I join the raucous hysteria.
Times are hard. War looms on the horizon. We’ve suffered losses our hearts can barely cope with. Blood will be spilled on both sides, there’s no getting out of that, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy life while it lasts.
No one in this room can guess the outcome of our battle with Christian and the unseen puppet master pulling his strings. We can hope to come out on top, but there will never be a guarantee.
All we can do is pray to see the sunrise tomorrow while we watch the sunset tonight.
Taking these moments in is vital. Without hope and laughter, we’d be nothing more than zombies trudging through life. Broken. Dead. It’s the little things that keep us going—the smiles, the camaraderie, the beers, the jokes. Knowing you have a family to fight for. To survive for.
We all need someone or something to live for, and the men at this table are mine. Liam and the twins are mine. The need to see them survive is stronger than my thirst for revenge. I would sacrifice myself before sending them to die for me.
My gaze travels across their lit-up faces, and for the first time since meeting Matthias, I understand the weight he carried. These men, and the many others who followed him, were his responsibility. Someone’s son. Someone’s daughter. Parents. Family. People who wanted to go home each night.
Now, they are mine to protect.
“Settle down. Settle down,” Nikolai chuckles, tears streaming down his face as Vas attempts a horrific Harry Potter accent. My sides ache with laughter.
Still—on to business.
It takes another ten minutes before the overgrown children are ready to focus again. Another round of beer is handed out, and we get back to work. The breakdown fades like a distant memory.
“Most of the decrypted files involve finances,” Mark says. “It’ll take a few days to associate them with dealers and cargo, but it’s doable.”
“Did you find anything on Maleah?” My heart flips.
Mark’s lips turn down. “Nothing. If Elias kept a record of where she went, he didn’t list it outright.”
It was worth a try.
“I did find a reference to your sister.”
My brow furrows. “Libby?”
“No.” Mark swallows. “Kenzi.”
“Was it her tuition paid with drug money?” I sneer. “Because I couldn’t care less.”
“No,” Mark snaps. My gaze snaps up to meet his. His light eyes are swirling with barely contained irritation. They bore into mine, frigid and cold. “It said she was sold.”
“Impossible.” My lip curls. “Libby talked to her almost daily.”
“For how long?” Vas asks. Not him too. He can’t possibly be thinking that Elias sold her. Shooting and then blowing up my husband, then taunting me about it didn’t exactly scream CAPTIVE.
“I don’t know—five minutes maybe.” I throw up my hands exasperated. “Libby always said she sounded rushed. Said she was busy.”
“And that didn’t strike you as odd?” Maxim cuts in. Fucker is against me too. “Twin sisters who were hardly ever separated, always had time for each other no matter what, and suddenly one of them can’t find the time? That doesn’t sound odd to you?”
Of course, it did. I’m an idiot, but I chalked it up to Kenzi finally being free. Without Elias or Christian to dictate her every move, she found a chance at having a real life and I wouldn’t have blamed her for not wanting to be dragged into it again.
“If Elias sold her,” the sarcastic air quotes I put around that word should win an Oscar. “Then how did she end up an American Sniper?”
They exchange a look I don’t like. It is the kind of look that means they are holding something back. They know something about Kenzi and that pisses me the hell off.
“Someone start telling me what the fuck is going on,” I snap. “or I will empty every single bottle of alcohol here and in the penthouse, so help me God.”
