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Edward lifted his glass. “Hmm, interesting timing.”

I smiled. “What’s so interesting Edward? Please enlighten me.”

His eyes settled on mine.

“I think you’re more cutthroat than everyone in this room realizes.”

“That’s a compliment coming from you.”

“It wasn’t one.” He leaned closer. “Men who remove everyone who becomes inconvenient eventually run out of people they’re willing to keep around.”

I held his stare. “Are you suggesting I killed my parents?”

Edward took a drink. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what the fuck are you getting at?”

Before he could answer, John called the room to attention.

Edward eased a step back, but his eyes stayed on me.

“Maybe some men are too dangerous even for the Collective.”

I smirked.

Edward had no fucking idea.

He thought I was too dangerous for the Collective while Colin, John, and I were already discussing what the Collective would look like once men like him were no longer running it. The old fucks had spent decades building something powerful, only to waste it hiding behind traditions and rules.

They could keep pretending they were in control.

For now.

Then the doors opened, and Greg Sinclair was brought into the room to begin his initiation. He stood near the center of the room with his jacket buttoned and his hands at his sides. He had been told not to speak unless addressed. He followed the instruction, but his shoulders held tension.

John lifted one hand, and the room quieted.

“Greg Sinclair,” he said.

Greg looked forward. “Yes.”

“You were brought here because you have proven useful.”

John stepped away from the symbol and moved closer to the table. “This organization does not recruit decent men. Decency has limits. We recruit capable men. Men who understand instruction. Men who can protect an interest.”

Greg looked at him with calculated confidence that made him more interesting.

“You were not invited because you are trusted,” John said. “Trust comes later, if it comes at all. You were invited because you have value when directed correctly.”

Greg looked once toward the masked men, then back to John. “What does this initiation require?”

John gestured toward the door near the back of the room.

It opened.

Two men brought in a woman with her hands bound in front of her and black fabric tied across her mouth. She was bruised and bloody, but she was able to stand. She fought the grip on her arms until one of the men pulled her back into place. Her eyes moved from mask to mask, searching for help.

Greg’s body reacted before his face did. His shoulders lifted slightly. His fingers flexed once at his side.