They settle across from me. The waitress appears nervously, but I wave him off. This isn’t a social breakfast anymore.
“I’m ready to talk about an alliance,” I say without preamble, voice low. “But first, I need a show of good faith. Help me find the men who killed my brothers. I want names. Locations. Heads on fucking spikes. Once that’s done, we can discuss howwe divide the city and make sure no one ever challenges any of us again.”
Viktor leans back, studying me. Ivan and Kirill remain silent, watchful.
“We’re already on it,” Viktor says calmly. “My people have been digging since the night it happened. We have some leads… old rivals, disgruntled suppliers. We’ll share everything we find.”
I raise an eyebrow and nod, keeping my face neutral. “Good.”
Inside, suspicion coils like a snake.Already on it.How convenient. The timing, the smooth offer of help, the way they appeared right after Padraig told me about Kruchev’s death…
It’s possible—very possible—that the Downtown Devil and his two quiet partners are the ones who ordered the hit on my brothers. Luring me into an alliance only to put a bullet in my head when I’m no longer useful.
I smile thinly across the table, every instinct screaming danger even as I play the game.
“Excellent,” I say. “Then let’s get to work.”
The city keeps moving around us, unaware of the blood about to be spilled. And somewhere a few blocks away, my sweet William is walking along, completely unaware that the man he’s falling for might have just sat down with his brothers’ killers.
I’ll protect the sweet boy from all of it.
Even if it means killing every single one of them myself.
Chapter 13
William
The library feels like my safe haven again this afternoon, even though my body is still deliciously sore in all the right places.
Even thinking about what went down makes me feel everything again. And it’s a sensation I could get used to, even if I’m still conflicted on the inside about what the future might hold.
Davey and I have claimed our favorite corner on the third floor—two oversized wooden chairs tucked beside a tall window that overlooks the quad. Twist sits proudly on the desk next to Hardy, both stuffies watching over us like tiny guardians.
We’ve got juice boxes, strawberry for me, apple for Davey, a rainbow of neon highlighters scattered everywhere, and our notebooks open to fresh pages.
We booked this two-hour study block before the one-hour Brontë seminar later. In theory, it’s perfect. In practice… my brain has completely abandoned nineteenth-century literature.
All I think about is Kane.
And specifically what Kane can do to me and my body.
I try to focus on the dense academic text in front of me, but the words blur. Instead, my mind keeps drifting back to last night…
To Kane’s apartment.
To the way he’d commanded me over his lap on that huge couch overlooking the city, spanking me until I confessed every filthy detail of what I did with my plug and dildo after the library.
The sharp sting of his hand.
The heat that built until I was sobbing and my dick was pumping, throbbing, desperate for release.
Then the way Kane made me stand in front of the mirror, hands on my head, red bottom on full display while he watched me like I was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
A fresh wave of heat rushes through me. I shift in my seat. I can still taste him on my tongue from this morning, still feel the ghost of his fingers gripping my hair while I pleasured myself and sucked him at the same time.
Damn, it was hot.
“Earth to William,” Davey says, waving a bright pink highlighter in front of my face. He’s got that knowing smirk already. “You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes and you keep squirming like the chair is made of hot coals. Let me guess…Kane?”
