All those people he took to Brent’s house know and now all of our lives are in danger?—
The fear stops when Harry’s face goes blank.
“Is there anywhere we could talk in private?” He looks pointedly at Rory.
I think about it for a long second then nod toward my office’s open door. “My office is this way.”
Iris takes one step forward and Rory moves too. Seeing this, Harrison holds up a hand.
“I’m afraid you’re not invited to this meeting, Aurora,” he says mildly, and all I can think is he should be afraid. Her face transforms so she looks like she’s about to lose her cool and shoot him in the face, but she surprises me when all she does is spit venom with every word.
“If I can’t go, then neither can she.” She points at Iris.
“That seems fair,” Harry says easily, and just like Iris, keeps a level gaze on Rory, then he turns to Connor. “Shoot to kill if necessary.” His tone is still so damn controlled.
“And leave the briefcase,” Rory demands.
The look Harry sends me then—barely restrained amusement.
He walks over to the round table in the middle of the foyer, and puts the briefcase down, unlocks it, and takes a stack of papers out, then spins it so Rory can see it’s empty now.
With the papers in his hand, he walks by us again and into my office without a word.
Right.
As I’m closing the door, I see Rory shoot murderous daggers at Connor—with her eyes thankfully. “What the hell, Connor?” she mumbles, but Connor stays quiet. My bet is that’s him following Harry’s orders.
“What a night,” Harry says, with a weary sigh as he plops down onto the couch and puts the stack of papers on the coffee table in front of him. He’s back to being my cousin now, and that takes away some of the confusion.
So I sit next to him and wait for him to start explaining himself.
After a minute or so—I suppose Harry needed it to get himself together as well—he takes a pen out of his suit pocket and slides the first page of the stack toward me then holds out the pen.
“Sign at the bottom.”
The page is blank, except for the line where I’m supposed to sign.
It’s... instinct, to take the pen and scribble my name.
I know what it means, but I don’t think Harry would ever harm me, not really. It’s probably insurance, some sick power move, but for tonight, I’m done trying to play the game of who’s more powerful—I’ve lost over and over.
“What will go above it?” I ask him.
“So you understand, I can put anything I want on that piece of paper.”
“Yes, I understand,” I tell him with an eye roll.
“That was pretty stupid of you,” he says, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Again, I roll my eyes at him.
“I hope you’d trust me just as much.” It might come out in a sarcastic mumble, but I do hope that.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he says simply then leans back, letting his body fall heavily against the couch. “Now that’s out of the way, let’s talk like cousins. Please hear me out.”
I nod, tense despite his request.
“What you witnessed tonight is a group of people who have the power, the desire, and the obligation of keepingthe balance of this city. We are the Turris, and we control the city. Every mafia power grab, every new mayor, every major change in the city—with some obvious exceptions that were out of anyone’s control—were orchestrated by us. We are the rulers and the deciders.”
