“The Mercyispower,” Rohan said, unrolling the paper and beginning to read. “But it isn’t the house, is it?”
Chapter 73
ROHAN
Rohan might not have been in the most rational frame of mind when he was informed there were intruders—four of them, to be specific.Four on one.Rohan liked those odds and opted out of sending anyone to take care of the situation for him.
This he would do himself. He could do with a fight. Perhaps blood would taste better than sand in his mouth, and either way, it was a distraction.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Rohan called up the elevator shaft. Without an invitation and a key, Jameson and the other incoming Hawthornes had been forced to resort to a rather treacherous climb.
“Congrats on the promotion,” Jameson called back. He was leading the way—and coming in hot.How very typical.
“You won’t like what happens if you make it to the bottom,” Rohan said, knowing quite well that, for some people, a warning might as well have been a formal invitation.
You won’t enjoy this, Jameson—but I might.Rohan needed to hit something. Someone. He needed tobehit.
“You’re going to want to hear what we have to say.” Jameson was perhaps five seconds out now.
We.That grated in ways that Rohan did not understand. He’d never needed anyone. He had no family. He had no friends. He had no one and nothing but the Mercy, and that was all he’d ever needed.
But the Mercy was a lie.
As Jameson made it to the ground, the others followed only a few seconds behind.
Impressive arm strength, across the board, Rohan registered. The youngest brother, Xander, had the largest reach, but it was Grayson, with his pale hair and fair skin so very like Savannah’s, who would likely present the most immediate danger in a fight.
Either that, or the uncle.
Once all four of them were on solid ground, Rohan offered them a smile—a roguish smile, a charming one, a smile that every single one of them had to know portended absolutely nothing good.
“Savannah,” Grayson said, his voice cutting through the air like a well-balanced blade. “They have her.”
Four words, and the world stopped spinning on its axis.
Four words, and reality rearranged itself in an instant.
“The Gilded Blade.” Grayson pressed the point, staring Rohan down. “Gigi said no. Savannah—”
“Wants to be heard,” Rohan finished. “Savannah wants power and control.”
And Savannah, despite her protests to the contrary, did not want to be alone.And she does not want me—not anymore.
“That’s it?” Grayson replied. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I know many words,” Rohan told Grayson, willing the bastard to shift his weight just slightly, to even think about taking a swing. “Would you like to hear some?”
“Cut the bullshit, Rohan.” Jameson had apparently reached his limit.
“Jameson Hawthorne, you sweet talker, you.”
“It’s called the Crucible, and not everyone survives.” Jameson took a single step forward, as if he had a vested interest in making sure Rohan hithimfirst. “They have Avery,” Jameson continued. “They have Eve.And now they have Savannah, andnoneof them is guaranteed to come out of this thing alive.”
“Savannah will.” For Rohan, that response was automatic.Of course she will. Of course she can. Of course she must.
“You’re the Proprietor,” Jameson replied. “And that means you chose this place over her, so tell me: What frame of mind do you think Savannah is in right now?”
I didn’t choose this, Rohan thought.She chose. Her decision, not mine.But Rohan couldn’t help silently answering Jameson’s question, too. What frame of mind was Savannah in?