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Sarris shakes his head. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s engineering,” Reese says.
“This scale has been used for decades.”
“And it was tampered with,” Marcus says. He points. “Right there. Adjusted. Someone wanted a certain outcome.”
Liam’s jaw tightens. The fatigue in his eyes evaporates.
“Call Patrick,” he says to Alcott. “Get him down here.”
Minutes crawl.
I keep Zaiya positioned behind my shoulder, making myself the wall to break through if they want to get to her. She watches anyway. Everything.
Finally, Patrick enters with all the confidence of a king. He’s dressed casually, not like a man dragged from sleep. No, Patrick has been awake. Finding two dead guards in their suite and moving with Bridget to another room probably put a damper on his night.
When he catches sight of Zaiya, his mouth curls.
“Wonderful.” His voice is bright with fake delight. “You found her.”
My pulse quickens. All that blood on the floor. Her cloak.
I look back at her. She never said what happened. What he did. Whether he hurt her before she escaped.
Patrick raises his eyebrows at me. “You really want to be here to watch her die?”
Then, with casual cruelty, he lifts a gun and aims it at Zaiya’s face.
She doesn’t flinch.
Not a twitch. Not a gasp.
Nothing.
The sight hits me so hard it almost drops me to my knees. She’s afraid. It’s there in the tightness of her mouth, the shine in her eyes. But she refuses to give him the satisfaction.
I shove her behind me anyway.
Liam steps forward, hands out to placate him.
“Put the gun down, Patrick.”
Patrick’s grin doesn’t move, but he lowers his arm.
“You’re giving me orders?”
“I’m saving you from making a mistake you can’t undo.”
Patrick’s head turns to the alcove. The scale. The stones.
“What is this?”
“You rigged the vote,” Marcus says bluntly.
Patrick laughs once, as if the accusation is cute.
“All this because Edwin can’t take a loss like a man?”
