When he rises, we do the same, the friction in the room tightening with every second.
“This was a productive meeting,” my brother says. “It is important to know where your adversaries stand.”
Greer snickers as she stands, that smirk back in place, and saunters closer. “Now, I hope that wasn’t some kind of threat.”
Konstantin’s mouth tilts up as he looks down at her. “You take it however you want to, Ms. Whitlock.”
Her stare sharpens, mouth flattening. “Oh, I will. You’d better believe it.”
“Now, now,” Harlan cuts in, stepping forward just as Cole jumps to his feet to stand beside his sister, like he might actually do something.
“Better keep yourself far away from my sister.” A muscle in Cole’s chin twitches.
Konstantin laughs and glances Harlan’s way. “You have yourself a bulldog, it appears. Good for you.”
Cole’s nostrils flare, ready to snap. I almost hope he does.
Harlan’s hand lands on his son’s shoulder, fingers pressing down. “He gets excited when his family is threatened. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Of course I do.” Konstantin flicks a hand in the air like it’s nothing.
But I know him well enough to see what sits beneath the calm. In his mind, he has already killed Cole twice over and is deciding how many times more he wants to do it.
“You all have yourselves a good day.” Harlan moves toward the door, clearly eager to walk us out before the charge in the room explodes into something he cannot contain. “And please take a bottle of whiskey on your way out. We make it back home. It’s our specialty.”
“We don’t drink whiskey,” Konstantin answers, and the brief tightening of Harlan’s face is almost satisfying.
“Very well, then. Have a pleasant day. We hope we made our position clear and, as I said, once you have things in order, we can step back.”
“Oh, your position is quite clear to us.” Konstantin turns as we head for the hall.
We walk out together, and once we are outside and far enough from the house, Konstantin looks at each of us, danger humming under his words.
“That was a declaration of war. And I know exactly how we will hurt them.”
“How?” Anton asks, eyes bright with that clinical curiosity.
“Not here.” Konstantin claps his shoulder. “We will talk later. For now, we reach out to other contacts. We get the weapons, and we get them now.”
I peer back once at the Whitlock estate, at the pretty facade and all the arrogance inside it.
War it is, then.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SLOANE
The diner isdark as I settle on the sofa, hoping to eventually get some sleep on this cold night.
But sleep is the last thing on my mind. My muscles are knotted so tight that my body aches in places I don’t usually notice. Every time I try to relax, I only manage to tense somewhere else, like fear is a liquid that just moves to the next crack.
I’ve been telling myself for an hour that I’m going to fill out the application, upload the photo of myself from Mandy’s birthday, and hit submit. Then it will be done. But the truth is, I keep scrolling up and down the form like I’m looking for an escape hatch that isn’t there.
Just do it. There’s no other way.
My thumb hovers over the first field, the cursor blinking like it’s impatient. With my pulse beating in my skull, I start typing.
Name. Birthday. Phone number. Email. Address. Every field completed until I have to choose the auction type I want to submit for.
