Mark sat near the back of the pub, one boot propped against the chair opposite him, untouched drink in front of him, and an expression sharp enough to cut glass. The moment Spencer approached, his brother looked up and narrowed his eyes immediately.
“You smell like cliff air and bad decisions,” Mark said flatly.
Spencer sat down slowly. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“You found her.”
Not a question, but Spencer was also surprised that he knew already. Not even giving him a chance to explain. Spencer exhaled once through his nose, of course his brother had figured it out.
Mark had always been terrifyingly good at reading him.
“She admitted it,” Spencer said finally.
Mark went still, like statue still. His eyes had widened slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that news.
“You found the missing heir,” he repeated slowly. “And instead of immediately telling me, you vanished for two hours.”
Spencer leaned back slightly in his chair. “It wasn’t that simple.”
Mark barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’salwaysa bad sign.”
Around them, the pub carried on, mostly unaware. Locals chatted over drinks, someone argued passionately about crab fishing regulations near the fireplace, and Denzel the ghost parrot watched everything from atop the rafters with deeply suspicious interest.
Spencer rubbed a hand across his jaw. “She ran for a reason.”
Mark stared at him for a long moment, then swore viciously, earning him a bemused look from a couple of pirates. “You’re fucking up the job,” he grated through his teeth.
Several more nearby patrons glanced over briefly, and Mark ignored them.
Spencer’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’m assessing the situation.”
“No,” Mark snapped, leaning forward now, voice lowering dangerously, “you’re hesitating.”
Spencer held his gaze evenly. “And you’re not listening.”
“The job was simple.”
“It stopped being simple the second she explained what the clan actually planned to do with her.”
Mark scoffed. “She’s manipulating you.”
The words hit harder than Spencer expected, because some part of him had already asked himself the same question… repeatedly… but every time he replayed that conversation in his mind, he knew the fear in Edith’s voice had sounded real. As well as the absolute certainty she would rather die than go back.
That hadn’t felt false at all.
“She’s terrified,” Spencer said quietly.
Mark threw up his hands. “She’s the missing heir of a Dragon clan! Of course she’s dramatic.”
Spencer’s expression hardened. “She said they sold her.”
That silenced Mark for half a second but only half. “And?” Mark asked flatly.
Spencer stared at him. “And?”
Mark leaned back in his chair, frustrated now. “We don’t get involved,” he said finitely. “That’s the rule. We find people. We finish contracts. We survive.”
“She isn’t cargo Mark… we’ve never dealt in live cargo… you know that.”
