“There always is. Name it.” I expect a number. A large one. I am already reaching for the inside pocket of my jacket where a wad of notes awaits.
He smiles, a thin, bloodless line. “When this is all over, I want a pardon. Full immunity. A clean slate.”
I lean back, tilting my head. The audacity is almost amusing. “Turning tail now, are you? Now that it’s clear the Esau are losing their grip? You want to jump from a sinking ship and expect me to give you a lifeboat?”
He barks a laugh, a dry, cracking sound. “Losing? Is that what you think? The Esau aren’t losing, Antonio. We’re repositioning. But the information I have for you will ensure they do lose. Permanently. Think of it as my investment in the winning side.”
My curiosity is piqued, a cold, sharp hook in my gut. He’s not lying. The arrogance in his voice is genuine. He believes the Esau are still ascendant, which means what he has is truly significant.
“I’m listening,” I say, my voice dangerously soft.
He leans even closer, his gaze flicking to Grace once more, a predatory gleam in his eye. “I heard a fascinating rumour about you, Antonio.”
I keep my face a mask of bored indifference. “There are always rumours.”
“Not like this one.” His smile widens. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches into his own jacket, pulling out a crisp piece of paper folded neatly in half. He doesn’t open it. He just lays it on the table between us, his finger tapping it once.
I narrow my eyes, picking it up and as I open it, my blood runs cold.
“Where did you get this?” The question is cool, detached. A masterclass in control I do not feel.
“There was a breach,” he says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “A clever little hacker your people missed. You’re losing your touch, Macrae, if you weren’t aware of it.” He lets the accusation hang in the air, a testament to his perceived superiority in this moment. “And that, that brings me to the other thing I want.”
The cold in my veins turns to ice. “What?”
His eyes slide from me to Grace. He doesn’t just look at her; he undresses her with his gaze. “Her.”
The word hangs in the air, ugly and absolute.
I feel my entire body go rigid, and the carefully constructed control I’ve maintained all night fractures. “What?” The word is a low growl, a promise of violence.
He laughs, a soft, disgusting sound. “Come on, Antonio. Titus’s daughter? Who in our world wouldn’t want a go? And add the fact that she’s your…”
“Stop,” I snap, cutting across him. My hand, which had been resting behind Grace, has curled into a fist.
“One hour,” he presses, undeterred by my anger, perhaps even excited by it. “That’s all I want. Is she that important to you that you’ll put her above our Grand Master? Above the entire Brethren?” He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t shared her already. Her cunt has been well used from what I heard. What’s one more time?”
Every muscle in my body is screaming.
This is a test. Not of my desire for the information, but of my weakness.
He is probing a chink in my armour, one I didn’t even know was visible. He is seeing the truth, and he is using it to humiliate us both. To prove that my power has a limit, and her name is Grace.
I want to say no.
The word is a fire on my tongue. I want to put a bullet between his leering eyes and dump his body in the nearest fucking ditch.
But he has information that could destroy the Esau, and this is the key to everything.
My gaze flicks to Grace. Her face is a mask of pure, unadulterated horror. She’s shaking her head slowly, tears welling in her magnificent eyes, shimmering in the lurid light.
“No,” she whispers, the sound a broken plea that lances straight through me. “Antonio, please… no…”
That ‘please’ shatters something inside me. It’s the same ‘please’ she’s said so many times before. So many situations I’ve forced her into.
I cannot ignore it again.
But I must.
