Page 84 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“I have a meeting with my men,” I say through the door. Pain strikes my chest as I realize this could be the last time I ever speak to her.

My hand ghosts over the doorknob, itching to twist the lock and walk into the bathroom, planting one final kiss to her lips.

I’m confronting her aunt, finding out the truth, and walking straight into the Crows’ lair. Time is of the essence. If David wants to waste his time playing games, so be it. He can fall.

“Can you get me some Tylenol?” she says.

“Sure.” I fight to keep my voice level, releasing the doorknob before turning on my heel and leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

She’ll never forgive me for what I’m about to do, but I refuse to let the Reaper fly for another day. Young boys are falling each day, and this city is becoming a breeding ground for chaos. I must end the cycle before it begins anew, and I must save what little innocence is left in the world.

I grab my keys and head out, typing Vivian Bennett’s name into my phone. She owns a luxurious art studio here in the city, receiving countless reviews from positive customers.

I pinch the screen, zooming in on a photograph. Late-forties. Interesting appearance. She wears crystal earrings, and the elephant-print fabric woven around her body makes her look like she should be in Bali on a spiritual retreat, not here in New York.

Her paintings go for thousands a piece, and she doesn’t even design them herself.

I scroll through pages of obnoxious art, taking a quick look at her website as I ride in the elevator.

When the doors slide open, I tuck the phone into my pocket, ghosting a finger over my knife. I must tread with caution. Police are roaming the streets. If I’m caught with this knife, I lose everything.

I pause outside of the apartment block, ringing for a car.

I recite the address to the driver as I hop in the back.

“Fine art?” he laughs from the front. “I never knew you were interested.”

“I’m not,” I grumble, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “But the woman looks like she has a fair few secrets shoved up her sleeves.”

“Secrets?” says the man, glancing through the rearview mirror. “About what exactly?”

“Who fucking knows these days?” I shrug. “The vast majority of people in this city are hiding something.” I continue watching the driver through the rearview mirror as he focuses on the road, wondering if he has any connections to the Crows.

After ten minutes of me watching the city pass by, I pop open the door, hand my driver the cash and put my best foot forward.

The sign on the art gallery door reads open, so I take that as my invitation to walk straight in.

“Afternoon, sir,” says my target, twirling around in woven fabric, looking exactly like her picture online.

Vivian angles her head to the side, her crystal earrings wiggling with each small movement. “Mr. Moretti,” she begins, swallowing thickly. “How may I help you?”

I glance around the room, noting the art and the ridiculous price tags attached. “I’m wondering if you can help me.”

“Oh,” says Vivian, stepping in. “What kind of thing are you looking for?” The small tremor in her lip tells me she knows exactly who I am, why I’m really here.

I stare deep into her eyes, seeing the fear underneath. “Close the gallery.”

“Y-yes,” she stutters, stumbling over to the entrance, flipping the sign. “Sir, if there is anything I can⁠—”

“Close the blinds.”

Aunt Viv glances over her shoulder, the fear now visible in her eyes as she obeys.

The room turns dark, shadows passing on her face as she turns around to meet my gaze.

Better rip off the band aid and get this over with.

I remove the knife from my belt, the silver blade catching the faded light.