Page 5 of Hide Little Traitor

DAMON

NOW

I’ve sat through more strategy sessions in the last twelve hours than I have in the last fifteen years.

I’m fucking exhausted, but I can’t rest.

Because despite me being the one to orchestrate this entire escape, I’m also the one running point on finding Ralph.

Which is pretty fucking inconvenient seeing as he’s shoved in a laundry chute on the other side of the house right now, but I play the part the best I can.

If my father finds out I helped Ronan escape with Chloe, I’m as good as dead. He won’t tolerate defiance from anyone, not even his prodigy.

The issue is, eventually I’m going to run out of ways of making this look real.

Contrary to what some believe, it’s impossible to disappear. There’s always a trace somewhere, and even if Ronan was able to disappear, I won’t be able to keep a dead body a secret forever. At some point I’m going to have to get rid of it, and it won’t be easy when the compound is crawling with guards.

Every single person that works for the family has been called in to help find Ronan, and it’s only a matter of time before they start getting suspicious about the story I’ve spun.

“You were close with Ralph. Did he give any indication that he was planning this?” my father asks Ricky, a piece of shit who is, unfortunately for me, loyal to a goddamn fault.

When it’s my time to take my father’s place, I plan to retire a lot of the old guys, but Ricky isn’t going to go down without a fight.

“I’m telling you, boss, he wouldn’t do something like this. Sure, he thought the girl was pretty and he might have wanted a piece of her, but not enough to take off with her and your boy.”

I barely swallow the scoff at the description of Ronan.

It’s been a very long time since either of us was a boy, and the fact the old-timers are still trying to act like we’re children at thirty never ceases to amuse me.

Dad nods along before his eyes sweep over the long table of his most trusted men.

As bored as I am, the longer we waste in here having meetings like this one, the more time Ronan has to get away from the city. With any hope he’ll be across the country before we make any kind of headway putting the pieces I’ve scattered together.

Looking down at my phone, I frown when I find a missed call from a blocked number. It’s probably Ronan checking in, but I told him I would call him when I could.

If he’s calling, something’s wrong.

“Damon,” my father snaps, and I glance up at him, unbothered by his tone. “Can you get your guy to hack into the city’s traffic cameras? I want to know which way they’re heading.”

“Sure thing,” I agree, not bothering to remind him that the guy who normally does that kind of thing is actually Ronan. I know how to pull footage, but it will take longer, and for once that’s a good thing.

“Everyone else get some sleep. As soon as we have an idea of where they’re headed, it’ll be all hands on deck.”

I shove myself to my feet and head toward my bedroom without bothering to stop to talk to anyone. I’m fucking tired, but more than that, I need to check on Ronan.

You’d think after being pitted against each other our whole lives that we would have a surface-level relationship. But if anything, we’re closer for it. He’s the only person in the world who understands the pressure of being a part of this family, the sacrifices I’ve had to make to be where I am today, and that means I will always be protective of him.

Even though it’s been a long time since he’s needed me to protect him.

The door has barely shut when I dial the number, waiting for long seconds until his voice finally comes down the line. “Hello,” he says. He sounds tired, but I doubt he’s had a chance to sleep yet.

“Have you met up with De Marco and her guys yet?” I ask.

“Yep.”

“And Chloe’s okay?” I fucking hate myself for asking, hate myself for caring whether she lives or dies, but I think if the last twelve hours have proven anything, it’s that I don’t hate Chloe Weaver even a fraction of the amount I pretend to.

There’s a long silence. So long anxiety rolls through my chest, and I can barely drag in a breath.