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“Kincaid.”

I smiled beneath the mask.

He tried everything after that. Money. Hidden accounts. Properties. Shipping contracts. Names he could deliver. Anything he thought might buy him another minute. His twenty-year-old son stood near the bookshelf, jaw tight, eyes darting toward the door. The nineteen-year-old stayed closer to the desk, his hands opening and closing at his sides as his breathing grew shallow. Edward looked between Colin, Greg, and me before his attention settled back on me.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t.”

His face changed slightly, as if that answer frightened him more.

I drew my pistol.

“You spent a lot of time worrying about whether I belonged in the Collective, Edward.”

His eyes widened.

“You should’ve been wondering whether you still belonged.”

Edward opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him the chance to answer. I put a bullet through his forehead. The back of the man’s skull burst open in a red mist of blood, bone, and brain matter that splattered across the bookshelves behind him. Edward’s body dropped hard. The glass shattered on the floor and whiskey spilled across the rug.

For a second, neither of his sons moved.

Then the older one shouted, “Run.”

Colin raised the shotgun. The first blast caught the twenty-year-old in the back as he lunged for the hallway. Buckshot tore through his spine and ribs in a devastating spray of shredded meat and bone fragments. He screamed once before he hit the floor, twitching.

The second blast hit the nineteen-year-old as he tried to scramble past his brother. The shot ripped into his side and chest at close range. It blew a fist-sized hole straight through him, exiting in a grotesque explosion of gore that painted the doorframe and wall. The body slammed against the wood and slid down, leaving a thick red trail.

I nodded to Greg. He moved through the room while Colin surveyed what we’d left behind. By morning, Edward’s house would be treated like the scene of a brutal home invasion. The overturned furniture, broken glass, and blood throughout the house already told enough of that story.

I left them to finish and walked through the house. When I reached the foyer, I stopped beside the packed suitcases again.

Edward had really believed he could run. Leave the Collective behind and disappear before anyone caught up with him. The old fuck had spent weeks questioning me while quietly preparing to betray the very men whose approval he thought I hadn’t earned.

And I’d been the one they sent to kill him. That was almost as satisfying as the killing itself.

Greg appeared behind me. “We should go.”

We returned to the van and pulled away from the estate. The house disappeared behind the trees, and I leaned against the side panel as the road opened ahead of us.

In the end, everything Edward had accumulated became worthless the moment we entered his study. That was the mistake men like Edward always made. They thought having money made them untouchable.

Edward had become a problem, and now the problem was gone. By morning, someone else would be sitting in his place, his businesses would continue without him, and the Collective would move forward as though he had never mattered.

Samantha would move in soon. In a few days, she would be my wife. She would wake up in our house every morning and fall asleep beside me every night. No more condo across town. No more wondering where she was or who had her attention when I wasn’t there. She would have the house, a life of luxury, and me.

Maggie would remain exactly where she was. Convenient, private and available whenever I wanted her. She gave me something different from Samantha, and I saw no reason I should have to choose between them.

Why would I?

Everything was falling into place exactly as I wanted it.

Samantha had given me her heart.

Maggie had given me her devotion.

The Collective had given me power.