The world goes silent.
He continues, voice dripping with disgust.
“You’ve forgotten what it means to rule. I was offered enough money to test your loyalty to the family—and you failed. Miserably. The city needs a real leader again, not a lovesick child letting himself be manipulated.”
Lovesick.Child.
He doesn’t stop.
“They paid me to make sure Xavier Long knew where you would be that night. They wanted you gone. So he acted. And you survived only because he’s sloppy.” Hartford’s lip curls. “You’re soft, Lucian. You always have been.”
My breath leaves me in a single, devastating exhale.
“And the email?” I ask quietly.
“Fabricated,” he says. “Elias never sent anything. But you believed it. Because you wanted to. I needed you to see howstupid you’ve been, boy. That this infatuation is going to make yousmall.”
My hand tightens around the gun. He sees it and smiles wider.
“You’re soft, Lucian,” he says. “You always have been. Even as a boy.”
I lower the gun slowly. Not because I’m sparing him, but because I want my hands wrapped around him when he dies.
He watches me carefully.
“What?” he asks.
I set the gun on the table beside him.
His brows lift slightly.
“You taught me to finish things properly,” I say.
He exhales a slow breath. “And what are you finishing?” he asks.
“You.”
I grab him by the collar and slam him down onto the floor. His wounded leg buckles uselessly, blood smearing across the polished wood. He grunts, swinging at me with surprising strength. His fist catches my jaw.
I welcome it. The pain makes things clearer. I can finally see.
I drive my knee into his ribs, feeling cartilage shift under impact. He wheezes but doesn’t stop. He reaches for something?—
A blade flashes toward my side. I twist just in time for it to slice into my bicep. Hot pain flares, but I don’t pull back. I catch his wrist mid-swing and twist making the knife clatter to the floor.
He laughs. Actually laughs.
“That’s it,” he says, breath ragged. “There he is.”
I drive my fist into his face. Bone cracks. Blood sprays. He spits red and grins through it.
“You think ruling is about love?” he demands. “It’s about fear.”
“I am feared,” I say.
“Not if you keep this pussy act up,” he replies, voice hoarse.
I grab his throat and slam him against the wall. The impact rattles the room.
