Cerberus looked up as I approached. “Tell me you found something.”
“Laptop’s wiped,” I said. “Professional job. Done in the last day or so.”
Cerberus’ expression didn’t change, but I saw the muscle in his jaw tighten as he looked down at Cade, who was desperately trying to curl into a tight fetal position on the cold, hard ground, his trembling hands covering his head in a futile attempt at protection. “That so. Look at me, asshole.” Cerberus’ voice was calm, almost conversational, which somehow made it more menacing.
Cade didn’t move. He stayed frozen in place, his body rigid with fear, his breathing shallow and erratic.
Cerberus let out a long, measured breath and nodded slowly to Firestride, a silent command passing between them. Firestride stepped forward without hesitation, reached down, and grabbed a fistful of Cade’s hair, yanking his head up with brutal force. Cade whimpered pathetically, a broken sound escaping from his throat as blood and snot ran down his battered face, dripping onto the ground below.
“Who wiped the laptop, Cade?” Cerberus asked. “Because I fucking know you’re too stupid to do that shit.”
“I-I don’t.”
Firestride slammed Cade’s head into the floor. Not hard enough to knock him out, just hard enough to make the point.
“Try again,” Cerberus said.
“I—” Cade’s voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t understand it. So I hired someone to work the books. It wasn’t me. I swear!”
“Who?” Scythe spoke for the first time in nearly an hour, his voice soft and dangerous, like silk wrapped around a blade. The room seemed to grow colder as the words left his lips, each syllable measured and deliberate. His eyes remained fixed on Cade, unblinking, patient, waiting for an answer he already suspected he wouldn’t like.
“Asshole said he knew computers. He took care of the books.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who, motherfucker?” I growled.
Cade’s good eye rolled toward me, unfocused.
“What is his name?” Cerberus’ voice had gone very quiet.
“Michael. His name is Michael Campbell.”
I pulled out my phone, already knowing what I was going to find. Opening the encrypted messaging app that the club used, there was a message from Morpheus, sent an hour ago.
Death Dogs are on the move. Get back here. Now.
I looked at the laptop sitting on the desk in the office, wiped clean by a man who had disappeared. I looked at Cade, broken and bleeding on the floor, and I realized we had been played. The money wasn’t hidden. It was already gone. And whoever this Michael Campbell was, he had taken it right out from under us while we were focused on Cade.
“We need to go,” I said to Cerberus. “Now.”
He read something in my expression, something that made him nod once, sharp and decisive. “Firestride, Scythe, let’s move.”
“What about him?” Scythe gestured to Cade with his knife.
Cerberus looked down at the broken man on the floor, his expression unreadable. His cold, dark eyes showed no hint of emotion, no flicker of mercy or regret. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by Cade’s labored breathing. “Leave a message,” Cerberus finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “Prancing Pussycat is now under new management.”
Scythe didn’t waste time. He moved with practiced efficiency, a predator who had done this a thousand times before. He yanked Cade’s head back roughly by his hair, exposing the vulnerable flesh of his throat. The blade glinted once in the dim light before Scythe slit his throat in one swift, brutal motion. Blood sprayed across the stained carpet as Cade’s body went limp.
We walked out of that place without looking back, leaving Cade’s lifeless body on the floor of the shitty strip club. The neon lights outside flickered and buzzed as we emerged into the night air. But even as we rode away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had just lost more than money. Something had shifted tonight, something fundamental, and I wasn’t sure I was going to come out of this whole.
I lost the advantage.
And somewhere out there, someone was laughing at me.
Chapter Four
Alex
