The world stops.
Silas wasn’t paroled two days ago. Or maybe he was.
But as soon as he was,he was taken.
Senior’s had him this whole time—not as backup leverage, but as the main event.
He let us come here with our lawyer and our protective clauses and our clever negotiations because he wanted to watch us think we had a chance. He likes to play with his food. Wasn’t that the whole point of telling us about Harper’s mother and aunt?
“What’s it going to be, sweet girl?” Senior asks.
He pulls out a different set of papers from inside his cut—the original trust documents, with no amendments or protective clauses. Just clean renunciation with no promise of not harming Bruiser as soon as non-familial killing rights are signed away.
“Sign THIS,” he taps the original documents, “exactly as written, with no additional clauses... or your father dies.”
He slides the papers across the table. “You came here thinking you could negotiate with me,” Senior says quietly. “But I don’t negotiate. I wanted to see if you inherited the family cleverness. You did.”
That cruel smile again. “So be clever and save your father. All you have to do is sign.”
THIRTY
HARPER
We knewhe’d try to double-cross us, but I have to say, in all our various calculations of scenarios, I can’t believe we overlookedthisspecificpossibility.
No, we weren’t able to find Silas, but Domhnall hacked the prison’s security feed, and there was video footage of him getting discharged and walking out of the prison a free man.
Granted, it was odd he couldn’t be located on asinglecamera feed after that moment, and it’s not like Gatesville and surrounding areas didn’t have the occasional traffic cam.
We just thought it meant Silas was really good at disappearing.
But of course, we should have factored in that the Kings were also very good atdisappearing people.
“Where is he now?” I ask, keeping my eyes on Senior, even as the pressure of Caleb’s hand tightens on my thigh. I pinch his thumb,hard.
It’s our signal.
Fuck. I should’ve known coming here to try to negotiate with an insane motherfucker wouldn’t go the way I wanted.
But we had to know what cards were in his deck.
And now we do.
He has my father, who wasn’t the deadbeat I assumed my entire childhood. His fate wasn’t his own—it was always being twisted by his Machiavellian fuck of a brother.
“If I sign, how do I know you’ll let him go?” I ask, trying to look cowed by his show of strength.
Under no circumstances do I glance toward Caleb, who I trust to be taking care of things as far as passing along the distress signal to our team.
Fuck negotiations.
It’s time topull out.
We’ll retreat to the fortified mansion and regroup. I’ll happily lock myself inside with Bruiserforeverif that’s what it takes to keep him safe from this maniac.
But right as I feel the shift from Isaak’s guard behind me?—
Zsuddenly limps forward from where he’s been perched, blank-faced by the bar.