Page 83 of The Devil

Severin glances out the window as he pulls out a seat looking not at all pleased.

“I think we should call Cassian,” I say, looking between them.

The brothers exchange a glance. “They blocked our phones,” Jet says. “Couldn’t if we wanted to. Anyway, I don’t want him involved.”

“He can help. He can⁠—”

“This isn’t mafia business, Amal. This is something else altogether. I don’t want to involve anyone else in it,” he says with finality.

The waiter serves up bowls of curry and brings more of the accompaniments.

My attention shifts once more to the coats of arms over the fireplace’s mantle. Jet’s gaze follows mine before our eyes meet and I feel the squeeze of his hand on my knee.

“What is it?”

I consider telling him but telling him what? That I think maybe I recognize that strange design? That maybe my mother doodled it in her diary more than once?

But before I speak, Severin clears his throat and gives a subtle shake of his head. He eats a bite of curry. I look over his shoulder, over Jet’s. I don’t need to look over mine to know more staff have entered the room and they’re not wait staff. They’re soldiers.

28

JET

Amal is picking at her food, her gaze moving back again and again to that wall over the fireplace, to the coats of arms. Sev and I eat although with each bite I wonder if we’re eating our death. The Society is adept at poisoning. It’d be the cleanest way to solve the problem we’ve created for them. Although I suppose dumping our bodies in the ocean would do the trick too. So many options.

Except that we’re Blackstones and outside of The Society, we’re important. We have money and power enough to be missed. No, no poisoning for us. No disappearing of bodies. If they kill us, it’ll be made to look like an accident.

Amal, though? I glance at my wife who is looking at each of the soldiers, very aware that with us came the entourage which I noticed wasn’t here when she was here on her own. I guess they don’t expect trouble from a mere woman. If they only knew my wife.

I make a mental note to slip her the pistol strapped to my ankle. They never did search us once we got on the island. Jameson’s oversight, I suppose. She can at least protect herself should we be separated again. Should anything happen to me.

The thought of Amal on her own against these men turns my stomach and makes me clench my hands into fists. If I die, so will she. I know this. Because even with Sev’s promise to protect her, I know they’d kill him too.

“Shall we?” Sev says, tossing his napkin on the table and pushing his chair back to stand.

“Yes!” Amal exclaims and shoves her seat loudly. She and I stand at once. I take hold of her hand.

Jameson approaches with that smile on his face and I promise myself that if I get the chance, I will punch it off.

Soldiers flank him and I take Amal’s hand before stepping slightly in front of my brother. Wanting to shield him from them, too. Although I know Sev’s more than capable of handling himself, what I saw, what they did to him, has given me pause.

He submitted to branding. To what I’m sure was an excruciatingly painful punishment and no doubt it was a punishment. A warning. He did it to protect me. He did it when he thought he’d failed me.

I never thought that. Never. He wouldn’t have been able to defeat our grandfather. There was only one way to stop that man and that is one thing Sev is not capable of.

But I was.

I am.

And as I count the men gathered here, I know I would murder each one of them with my bare hands to keep my family safe. To keep my wife and my brother safe.

My hands clenched, I step toward Jameson. “Show us to our room,” I tell him.

“Of course. I shall escort Ms. Lombardi to⁠—”

“Mrs. Blackstone,” I correct.

“Apologies,” he says with a slight bow. “I shall accompany Mrs. Blackstone to her wing, and these men will take you to your rooms.”