Ruthless Knights (The Dark Elite 2)

“Continue.”

I already don’t like where this is going, but I’d be a fool to ignore him, even if I hate him for speaking the truth.

“Consider this: someone took out Landon first. Ratted him out so he ended up with his ass in jail,” Myles says. “Now, Damian’s been taken out. I wouldn’t call that a coincidence. Someone is out for this syndicate, and I doubt they’re going to stop now. Landon’s arrest weakened us. Damian’s death could cripple us.”

My jaw clenches. I resent the implication that I can’t run the syndicate as well as my father, but as I replay his words in my head, it strikes me what he’s really getting at. Old wounds cut deep, and Myles is one of many who will never forgive or forget what Samuel Weston did to Landon. My father’s captains each felt that betrayal on a personal level. My uncle was beloved by many, and everyone took his arrest hard.

“Who’s the common link between these two incidents, Hale?” Myles gives me a penetrating look, his dark brows rising. “Who was connected to both events? Maybe we didn’t see it directly at first, but you know what I’m talking about.”

Grace.

That’s who he’s insinuating is connected. First, Samuel ratted out Landon, putting the next in line to command the Novak Syndicate in jail. The question has always been—why? Why did Samuel throw away his career, his home, and everything around him for a life on the run?

Because he wanted to bring the Novaks down.

Somehow, he managed to hide his hatred long enough that we wouldn’t suspect him. He must’ve lain in wait for years before he executed his plan with perfect timing and escaped into the night. But Samuel is dead now, which means he couldn’t have been directly responsible for my father’s death.

But indirectly?

What if he wasn’t working alone all those years ago? What if he brought up his daughter to follow in his footsteps? What if she’s been lying to me all this time?

My stomach twists as I consider the possibility of what Myles says, what he’s hinting at. It’s not as far-fetched as I wish it was, and I hate the doubt that spreads through my chest like poison.

Have I let my heart get so fucking caught up in her that I’m ignoring the obvious?

Myles takes a step away from the desk, dipping his head respectfully. He never seemed to think I was strong enough to lead the Novaks—I know he was one of the ones whispering in my dad’s ear that I wouldn’t be a worthy heir to his empire—but he’s been careful to demonstrate his fealty to me in the wake of my father’s death.

I watch him as he settles in beside my father’s old captains.

He’s said his piece, and he’s done. But his words are still infecting my mind. I want to speak up in defense of Grace like I did when we brought her in to meet with my father… but with my father lying dead on a slab somewhere, the words won’t come.

Because a tiny part of me wonders if Myles is right.

Did she play me? Did she play us all?

I drag in a breath to clear my head, then change the topic back to what needs to be done right now.

“I want you to spread out, interview everyone,” I say. We’ve got a web of informants throughout the entire city. “I want to know if anyone has seen or heard anything. I also want reports on the movement and activity of all other criminal groups in Chicago over the past three weeks. Big or small, I don’t care.”

I can tell Myles thinks I’m dismissing his suspicion of Grace and is displeased, but he doesn’t say anything. I’m not about to feed into his arrogant satisfaction by telling him that he might be right, not until I’ve looked into things myself.

A spark of anger ignites in my chest, but I push it down, smothering the flames.

“You may leave. Report back to me tomorrow.”

They f

ile out of the office and I gesture to Ciro to follow me out.

Grace comes next.

22

Grace

Zaid and Lucas pace up and down the length of the living room. They’re both practically radiating nervous energy, and it seems to fill up the whole space, making it hard to maintain my fragile grip on my own emotions.

Everything has completely changed. The world of the Novaks has been turned upside down, around, and back again; power has been challenged and shifted, the perfect balance of the syndicate shaken. The day that no one was ready for has come, and it came with no fucking warning.