Saint’s voice was low. “Neck. Quick.”
“Or slow,” Knight said. “There’s merit in slow.”
Peregrine gave the barest twitch of a smile, pistol still steady. “One pull, gentlemen, and your mighty Fury King falls.”
Drake’s voice cut through, ever sensible. “Enough posturing. Kill him and you die. Simple math.”
“Ah, so this what brotherly love feels like.”
“What’s your plan here, Peregrine?” Maxen snapped. Something was off. It was almost as if Peregrine wanted this very thing to happen. Expected it to happen. But what did the blackguard hope to gain? There was no winning this battle with them.
“Let’s just strangle him with his own cravat and be done with him,” Reaper suggested. “Slow or fast, doesn’t matter to me.”
“We don’t kill,” Drake pointed out.
Maxen’s whole body was aware of the woman behind him, so he couldn’t very well remove a limb or two.
Reaper chuckled. “I’d say Peregrine looks a little... uncomfortable. How’s the cravat, darling? Tight enough? Shall I take over,frère?”
Maxen ignored his brother’s taunt. He had eyes only for the man pinned in his grasp, only for the pulse beating just below his hands. He had thought only for that pistol aimed at his heart while Calliope’s bruised wrist still burned behind his eyes. And Christ, for fighting the urge to do exactly what his brothers were taunting about.
“You put your hands on her,” Maxen growled.
“I didn’t,” Peregrine answered, perfectly calm.
“You tied her.”
“A necessary precaution. My fingers didn’t even graze her skin.”
Did that bloody matter? Maxen leaned in, his head a hair’s breadth from Peregrine’s. “Don’t speak to me about necessary. That’s a dangerous road. Fatal even. Just not by my hands.”
The pistol pressed harder into his chest. Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t give Peregrine the satisfaction of even a damn flinch. “You want my empire,” Maxen said softly. “But all you’ve done is give me reason to burn you and yours—whatever pitiable thing it may be.”
“Mine took you and yours out in seconds. You all could be dead now.”
“A mistake we won’t make again.”
Behind him, the brothers closed the circle.
And Calliope . . .
Maxen pressed Peregrine harder into the wall, his fingers tightening on the man until the perfect cravat bunched and strained. The pistol’s hammer fell into place with a sharp click as Peregrine drew the metal fully back.
Maxen chuckled.
A brutal, grating sound that cut through the storm outside and seemed to quiet the entire room.
“Well, hell and damnation,” Reaper muttered. “Second time in my life I hear him laugh.”
“First time,” Knight muttered.
“That’s not a laugh,” Drake said.
“Do it,” Maxen said. “Let my brothers cut you apart limb from limb before they toss you in a crate bound for China.”
Reaper’s smile sharpened. “I’ll take an ear.”
Dagger’s knuckles cracked. “I’ll take his hands.”
