"As if I had a choice." A thin smile. "When an Ambrose requests an audience, one doesn't refuse. Your father taught me that."
He leads me inside, through halls lined with portraits of dead men, and into a study that smells of leather and old smoke. A fire burns in the hearth despite the mild weather—Bryan has always run cold, his blood thinning with age.
"Drink?" He gestures toward a crystal decanter on the sideboard.
"No. Thank you."
"Straight to business, then." He settles into a chair by the fire, gesturing for me to take the one opposite. "Hutton said you have questions about old records. Things that were buried before you were born."
"Before I was born, but not before I was aware." I sit, forcing myself to project a calm I don't feel. "I need to know about Linda Marsh."
Something flickers in Bryan's eyes—recognition, quickly suppressed. "That's a name I haven't heard in a long time."
"But you do recognize it."
"I recognize a great many names, Gabriel. I'm old. I've been Brotherhood for over fifty years. Names accumulate."
"This one is connected to records that were deliberately erased. Professional erasure, the kind that requires significant resources." I hold his gaze. "Brotherhood resources."
Bryan is silent for a long moment, the fire crackling between us. I can see him calculating, weighing options, deciding how much to reveal.
"Why does this matter to you?" he asks finally. "Linda Marsh disappeared twenty-five years ago. She's ancient history."
"She has a daughter."
"Ah." Bryan's expression shifts—understanding dawning, along with something else. Wariness. "The florist. I've heard rumors."
"She's more than a florist."
"Clearly." He steeples his fingers, studying me over the tips. "You've taken her to your bed. Moved her into your home. Made her a fixture in your life, from what I understand. And now you're asking questions about her mother's past."
"I'm asking because someone else is asking. Someone who means to use whatever he finds against me."
"Zachary Mercer."
The name lands between us like a stone in still water. Bryan's face remains neutral, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.
"You know about Zach's interest in this?"
"I know Zachary has been circling for months, looking for weaknesses to exploit. I know he's focused on your woman, though I didn't know why until now." Bryan pauses. "Linda Marsh. That's what he's found. That's the thread he's pulling."
"Then you know what's at the other end of that thread. I need you to tell me."
Bryan rises from his chair and moves to the window, his back to me. For a long moment, he says nothing, just stares out at the manicured grounds where gardeners move like ghosts among the hedges.
"Your father was my closest friend," he says finally. "We built the modern Brotherhood together, he and I. We shared secrets that would destroy lesser men. I loved him like a brother, and I've tried to honor his memory by protecting what he built."
"I'm not asking you to dishonor anything. I'm asking you to help me protect it."
"Are you?" He turns to face me. "Or are you asking me to help you protect a woman who may be more dangerous to the Brotherhood than Zachary Mercer ever could be?"
The words hit harder than they should. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that some secrets are buried for good reason, Gabriel. Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed again." He moves back to his chair but doesn't sit, standing behind it with his hands gripping the leather. "If I tell you what you want to know, it will change things. It will changeyou. Are you prepared for that?"
"I'm prepared for the truth."
"No one is ever prepared for the truth. They only think they are." But he sighs, a sound of surrender, and lowers himself back into the chair. "Very well. You want to know about Linda Marsh. I'll tell you what I know."
