“Did you talk to anyone outside this club in the last twenty-four hours?” Cory froze. Cyclops felt the truth before Cory said a word. Trixie rose from her seat quietly. The room stilled as she approached Cory, her expression unreadable.
“Who did you call?” she asked softly. Cory broke.
“My—my uncle,” he whispered.
Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “What is your uncle’s name?”
Cory started shaking violently. “Vincent Lee.” Trixie stiffened, and Cyclops’s vision went red. Ink lunged at the prospect, and Venom grabbed him before he could do any real harm. Razor cursed loudly enough to shake the walls. But Cyclops didn’t move. Not yet. Not until he had the whole story.
“Do you know him?” Cyclops asked Trixie.
“No,” she breathed. “My father was an only child, but he had a lot of friends and business associates that he considers family. It’s kind of like the way you consider these men your brothers.”
“My father works for Mr. Lee, and I was taught to consider him my uncle,” Cory breathed.
“Yeah, that’s how my father makes sure that his men stay in line. He makes them believe that they are his family, but he doesn’t treat them that way—not really.” Trixie barked out her laugh. “Hell, he doesn’t even treat his own flesh and blood like family. You were duped. You helped him, and he would never do the same for you, in return.”
“What did he offer you?” Cyclops asked, his voice too calm.
Cory sobbed, “Money.”
“How much?” Cyclops growled.
“A—a hundred grand,” Cory almost whispered.
Ink snarled. “Cheap traitor.”
Cory kept talking, desperation spilling out. “I didn’t tell him anything important—I swear! I just told him that you had her and that she was inside the compound. That’s all!” Cyclops moved so fast that Cory didn’t have time to duck. One punch to the gut, and Cory hit the floor gasping.
“Cyclops,” Venom barked. “Let him answer!” Cyclops didn’t care what the other men thought about him, or what the rules were. He hauled Cory upright by the collar. “You put her life in danger.”
“I—I didn’t know he’d send—” Cory stammered.
“You sent him pictures of her!” Cyclops countered.
Cory sobbed harder. “He said he wouldn’t hurt her. He said he just wanted to talk to her.”
Trixie stepped closer, voice low, deadly calm. “My father doesn’t just talk. He kills people for sport, or sells them to the highest bidder.” Cory’s eyes widened in horror.
Cyclops’s grip tightened. “You brought hunters to my door. To my club. To my woman.” Trixie’s breath caught—but Cyclops didn’t look away. He meant it—she was his, and he was done denying it.
Cory whimpered. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
“No,” Cyclops snarled. “You weren’t sorry when you took that money from Trixie’s father. You weren’t sorry when you lifted your phone to send him that photo. You weren’t sorry when you hit send.” He turned to the table. “Brothers,” he said, voice deep and cold, “you know the penalty.”
Every patched member stood. Ink crossed his arms. “He dies.”
Cory screamed. “No—no—please!” Cyclops released him and let him fall to the floor.
“Trixie,” he said quietly, without turning. “Go wait outside.”
Her breath shook. “Cyclops?—”
“You don’t need to see this.” Her lips parted—fear, conflict, something deeper flickering in her eyes. “Go,” he repeated. She stepped back. One step, and then another.
Venom gently guided her toward the door. “Come on, girl. Let us handle it.” As the door shut behind her, Cory’s sobbing filled the room. Cyclops didn’t look at him. He looked at his brothers.
“Handle him,” he said. The Reapers moved in, and Cyclops stepped outside into the hall, chest tight, fury burning low and steady under his skin.
