Page 135 of Brutal Truths

“Good. Then I’ll buy it.” Darius calls his bluff. “We’ll finalize it once you’re discharged. I’ve already taken care of relocating the women living there. Cort Theiss is also no longer your problem. He and his family are leaving London, starting over somewhere quieter.”

He continues, like he’s already decided. “Soulcombe will become a training facility for my new recruits. I’ve been looking for a location outside of Hermosa Islas. Might even put Aiden in charge of it. You’d be okay with that, right?”

“Anything else?” Trent’s voice sharpens as he tries to hit Darius where it hurts. “What else does the Duke of Falcon want? You plan on demanding I become your informant? Hand over what’s left of my soul?”

“You don’t have a soul,” Darius fires back. “And you’d make a shitty informant. But if I think of something else, I’ll let you know. Deal? Or do you want Interpol to keep digging?”

“Deal. Now get the hell out of here.” Trent’s eyes turn to me once more. “And Aiden, I’ll be watching. Don’t fuck up.”

“I won’t. And Isabel, when she comes by later, this…” I wave my hand around the room. “This never happened. She’s dealing with enough. I’ll tell her what matters. Understand?”

“Does the princess scare you?” He smirks. “Afraid she’ll yell at you for upsetting me in my condition?”

No need to deny it. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Get some rest. You look like shit. I’ll see you later this afternoon when she demands to visit.”

He chuckles but agrees to nothing.

I know what that means. It means I’ll be facing Isabel’s wrath and then have to come up with a creative way to get her to forgive me for upsetting him.

Lucky for me that I know a few methods of calming her down and forcing her to see reason.

We step into the hall, and Darius talks to Seth and Zander first. “Plane is waiting. You’re both heading to the States. New Orleans. Read the files. I’ll call later to discuss the details.”

They nod once and take off down the hall, exiting the back way, knowing better than to be seen.

Then he turns to me. “Now we deal with Rurik.”

“Lead the way.”

We take the stairs down a level and step onto the floor where he had the Russian moved. Security is tight. Which is why I’m surprised to find five men who aren’t ours standing outside his room.

My hand moves on instinct, weapon drawn before Darius can stop me.

They don’t blink. Just watch me with cold, dead eyes, daring me to make a move.

“Put that away.” Darius steps in front of me and shoulders his way through. “Now.”

I lower the gun, but keep it in my hand. “What’s going on?”

Looking bored, he pushes the door open and steps aside. “Not out here.”

I follow, knowing better than to question him now. I barely get a foot through the door when a hand clamps down on my arm.

“Gun. Away.” The Russian accent is heavy, the words broken. “Pakhan inside. No guns.”

“Pakhan?” I lift an eyebrow.

“Do it, Aiden,” Darius says without looking back. “Unless you’d rather wait out here.”

I slide the gun into its holster. The second it’s secured the arsehole I plan on knocking out later releases my arm, taking a step back.

It’s then I realize why all the fuss.

Viktor Del Markov is on the couch with a woman beside him. She doesn’t look pleased. When she spots us, she mutters several words in Russian under her breath.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I said you should not live for what you did,” she hisses. “You and that little cunt.”