“I’m not going to kill you, Dhal. Cali is.”
Grimm appeared in the doorway with a look I couldn’t read on his face. “You need to see what’s down there.”
“Let’s go.” I stood Dhal up and made her walk in front of me.
We went to the side of the house where the cellar doors were pulled open. A dank smell floated up from below.
Forcing Dhal down the old concrete stairs, I ducked my head and let my eyes adjust to the shitty lighting. The ceiling slightly lifted up ahead, but I didn’t need to stand straight to see the bodies stacked and piled on top of one another.
“Shit,” Cobra breathed from behind me.
I took in the outliers, acolytes, and delegates. Hanging on the wall and partially draping over the corpses was my flag, the Sigil of Baphomet.
“What the fuck is this?”
“I think the better question is what the fuck is he doing here?” Grimm pulled open a door I’d overlooked to reveal a man tied up, gagged, and passed out.
Fucking David.
“You said he wanted out. What the fuck is going on?” I spun Dhal around to face me, grabbing her up by the throat.
“Your brother wants out. Your brother did it,” she wheezed.
My brother?
Fuck. “Noah?”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
This wasn’t how I saw this going, but nothing in life was ever guaranteed.
He came back two nights ago and handed me a box. Inside was memorabilia that put mine to shame.
Noah was obsessed with his big brother. So obsessed, he rose his way up the ranks and helped disband The Order from the inside.
He planted his own seeds and then sowed them when he got what he wanted—a reaction from Romero.
He knew he could never take The Order out by himself, so what better way than to get the army and us to do it for him?
He was our third player.
David never would have suspected him. He was his golden child.
We never suspected him.
I couldn’t even wrap my goddamn head around it.
“Are you ready?” Romero asked, slowly opening the door.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He reached down and took my hand, leading me inside the devil’s playground once again.
I’d pictured this moment countless times.
The anger I’d expected to feel was simmering on low. I hated him, I loathed him with my entire being, and there was no doubt in my mind he would suffer as he died.
He deserved that much.
