Ren grins, the flaming bottle in his hand, and faces the building. “For the vow.”
I answer, “No mercy.”
My jaw tics and I chain the front door shut. Knowing Ren, he’s already locked the back.
“Let it burn.”
The bottle smashes against the wall. Flames engulf the building, and I walk away.
The cat’s heart hammers against my ribs.
Mine doesn’t.
Chapter 4: A MEMORY OF RAIN
The sleek skyscraper ofglass and chrome dominates Fifth Avenue even as storm clouds and drizzle render the world a muted gray. I’m meeting Maxwell and Rex Anderson, two of Lana’s four older brothers, at The Orchid, Fleur Entertainment’s crown jewel. Here, all dreams can come true—from the best restaurants to the specialty sex and strip clubs on its Rose floors.
But for me? It’s a playground. Plenty of secrets to go around in those darkened halls.
Years ago, I couldn’t have stepped through its doors. But I rose from the ashes and engineered my way in.
Bishop Seb
It’s done, I presume. Don’t need to bail you out, do I?
My lips hitch up in a half-smile at Sebastian McEntyre’s text message. The Syndicate’s resident psychopath never wastes time.
Rook Elias
I’m surprised you care.
Bishop Seb
I don’t. Emotions are meaningless. But if you were caught, it’d make my job difficult.
Rook Elias
Right. What’s an Irish mob lawyer without leverage? I thought you were a one-man show.
Bishop Seb
Professorandlawyer. Only the stupid rely on himself and not use the people around him. Remember what happened in Sri Lanka?
I arch a brow. We never talk about Sri Lanka.
Bishop Seb
You’re alive. That’s all I need. Talk when you’re in Chicago.
John guides the town car to the curb. I peel off my coat, unfortunately ruined by whiskey and blood spatter from the café mishap half an hour ago. The local news reports it as an explosion stemming from a gas leak. A quick call to the FDNY fire chief took care of that. After all, I saved his kid from a kidnapping two years ago. A favor for a favor.
Calmly, I fix my hair, taming the dark strands and lock away the monster.
“Mr. Kent, welcome back to The Orchid.” The doorman bows when I exit the car.
I flick off lingering ash from my suit jacket. Then I notice a crimson stain on my white, invisibly hemmed shirtsleeve.
Fucking Çelas, nuisances alive and dead. Another suit I’ll have to burn tonight—a waste that makes the boy I used to be wince.
