Gabriel purses his lips, studying Marcus before shifting his gaze to Ryland, Theo, and then to me. He stares at me the longest, as if he’s trying to figure out how I ended up firmly settled between the three of them, how I became a part of this at all—and what my presence might mean for him.
Finally, he tilts his chair back a little, shaking his head. “No. Not without proof. I don’t want promises of what you’ll do in the future. Promises you can break once you’ve got the power. You want my help? You want me to step aside so you can claim victory? Then show me I’ll actually benefit from having you where Luca is now. Take out the Viper. You get rid of him, and I’ll swear fealty to you.”
He finishes speaking and nods in satisfaction, as if daring the men to admit they won’t actually follow through on their promises. But Marcus just nods.
“All right. We’ll be in touch.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows twitch upward slightly. I get the feeling he expected the guys to be a lot more thrown by his terms than they are. He was probably hoping he could laugh us out of here, and he seems a little unsure how to respond as the four of us rise in unison. He stands too, grabbing his glass off the table and downing the remainder of his drink in one swallow.
Then he looks at Marcus again, his expression more serious this time. He nods, looking thoughtful. “If you do this, if you protect my family’s interests… yeah, I’ll support you.”
“Good.” Marcus dips his chin. “It’s the only way this ends without more unneeded death.”
We leave Gabriel standing behind the table and step back into the corridor. The same cocktail waitress who dropped the drinks off earlier steps forward as we pass her, slipping back into the room. We walk by a few more waitresses as we make our way back toward the main part of the club.
“That went better than it could have,” Theo comments, keeping his voice low.
“It did.” Marcus nods. “I think he was serious about his terms. Which means the Viper is fucking shit up for his family worse than he was letting on.”
Theo makes a noise in his throat. “The only problem is, now we’ve gotta find a man who doesn’t want to be found. This guy is like a fuckin’ ghost.”
“We’ll find him.” The grim determination in Ryland’s voice matches the feeling that hums in my chest.
We will find him. We have to. We’ve been given an opening, and if we can get Gabriel on our side, it might become easier to force Michael to bend a knee too. The more dominoes fall, the more power we amass, the easier it will be to claim the last few pieces on the board.
I hate that Victoria was the one who offered us this lead, but we can’t ignore it just because it came from her.
My thoughts are whirling as we cut through a large, dimly lit bar area. There are cocktail tables spread around the space, and the low buzz of voices deep in conversation surrounds us as we make our way through the crowd.
I’m so lost in my mind that I crash into someone as he heads toward the bar, letting out a startled yelp as his hands grab my arms to catch me.
“Excuse me, I—”
The man breaks off, his eyes flickering as recognition passes through them.
I freeze, my gaze locked on his face.
The world seems to narrow to a pinpoint, everything else fading around us until all I can see is that face.
That face.
He’s older now, but he’s still got the same straight brow, dimpled chin, and square jaw. The same light brown eyes.
My stomach seems to fall out of my body. The places where his skin touches mine, where he’s grabbing my arms, burn with cold fire.
You’re fine.
The words echo in my head, just as much of a lie now as they were when he said them to me after the first time he raped me. When I held a pair of shredded underwear in my hands, clinging to them as if I could somehow put the damaged fabric back together. As if doing so might put the damaged pieces of me back together.
It became his mantra, his command, the only two words he regularly spoke to me, and he said it with more and more disdain every time—like he couldn’t believe I was ignoring his orders.
Every hour that’s passed since I finally escaped the foster home where Jordan McCabe tore away my innocence seems to melt away. It’s like no time has gone by at all, and whatever strength I’ve built inside myself over the past years vanishes in a flash.
I’m raw and bleeding.
Just the way he liked me.
“Sorry, miss.” Jordan smiles blandly at me, the recognition I saw in his eyes a second ago replaced by polite disinterest. He flicks a glance at the three men who surround me then steps away, disappearing into the crowd.