Page 134 of Brutal Truths

“Doesn’t matter.” Trent’s jaw tightens. “You’re worse. Traitors. When Silas hears about this, he’ll mount all three of your heads on sticks.”

Trent’s threat falls short at the words of the fourth man standing by the door.

“Silas has his bigger problems right now. His new gallery was raided by Interpol after an anonymous email landed in the right inbox. I heard a very detailed inventory list was included.” Seth clears his throat. “He really should’ve secured that information better.”

“You three have one hell of a target on your backs. My men are loyal to the core.” Trent tries again.

It’s my turn to voice some points he’s overlooked.

“That’s where you made your first mistake. You should’ve killed Drake the second you suspected him, not let him stick around to whisper in your men’s ears.”

Drake fooled me, too, and I’m beyond pissed about it. But Trent suspected him and did nothing.

“Your men are divided. Their leader’s top guy was a traitor, working with the Russians. Rumors spread like wildfire, and they’re running faster than the blood that bound them.” I lean forward slightly, letting the words sink in. “It’s over, Trent. Either listen to what Darius is offering… or get comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of your life in a six by eight concrete cell.”

Neither of us breaks eye contact. Trent can fool most, look like a cold, uncaring gangster who fears nothing, but not me. I see it. The fear sitting just beneath the surface. I recognize it from when he thought he was a goner in the chopper. The moment he let his guard slip in front of Isabel and begged her to save him.

It’s not prison that scares him. It’s what comes with it. The loss of control, the inability to command, to rule. That’s what he can’t stand.

Trent turns to Darius, his scowl deepening. “I’m listening. Make it quick.”

“The Russians are already lining up to move in and take over. Neither of us wants that.” Darius makes a face, tasting his own words. “Rurik was a weak link. He acted without thinking. I can help you regain control. Get Interpol off Silas’s back… but you’ll owe me.”

“Owe you how?” The question comes out tight. Trent hates being in anyone’s debt.

“First, these three. Make it clear to the family that they aren’t traitors. However you need to spin it to allow them to walk away.”

He points at me. “Use Aiden. Say his relationship with the princess complicates things for everyone. That I brought you a deal you couldn’t refuse. You’re the captain. You don’t have to justify your decisions.” His tone drops, sharper now. “But the truth about her doesn’t leave this room. No exceptions. Even Silas. Understood.”

Darius didn’t wait around to learn the truth. He handled it himself. Making sure there was no room for doubt. The results came back quickly. Trent is Isabel’s biological father.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, not after Sofia’s letter.

“I agree. No one needs to know. She is and will always be a Reyes.” He glares at me. “If I take this deal, you’ll make damn sure nothing ever happens to her. If it does, I’ll come for you. No mercy.”

I nod. There’s no need to worry. I’d die to protect Isabel, and he damn well knows this.

Trent turns his attention to Seth and Zander, his scowl deepening, the disbelief still there beneath his anger. “You two disappear. Out of London. Better yet, leave England. Don’t come back. You do, and I hear about it, you’re done.”

Darius rolls his eyes. “Not a problem. We’ll blame Rurik and Drake for their deaths.”

“I can live with that.” Trent’s smirk returns. “Incompetence taken out by a traitor and a cunt Russian. Fitting.”

“Incompetent?” Zander snaps. “Who do you think⁠—”

“Enough!” Darius interrupts him before he can say too much. “One more thing. You’re not going to like this, but that’s too damn bad.”

“I haven’t liked any of this,” Trent admits, motioning for him to continue.

“Soulcombe.”

Silence follows.

Trent’s expression hardens.

Darius doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.

“It was getting old. Been thinking of selling it,” Trent lies, but I let it go. No point calling him out.