Page 120 of Unlocked

Davis turned and leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked at Archer with the expression he'd likely been saving for this precise moment. The one he'd been rehearsing, probably, since the moment Kelly's body was found, and he understood what it meant for tomorrow's board meeting.

"Your days are numbered, Archer," he said, all but the merest hint of the broad Texas accent erased. "You know that, right? A man died on your watch. In your building. Under your security. The board won't have a choice."

"They'll have a choice," Archer said. "They always have a choice."

"Not this time." Davis was enjoying this. The enjoyment was visible in every line of his face, and he wasn't bothering to hide it. "I have the votes. I've had them for a while, if I'm being honest. This just accelerated the timeline." He spread his hands. "It's over."

"It's not going to happen, Austin."

"You keep saying that." Davis tilted his head. "And yet here we are."

Archer studied him for a moment. "I'll make you a deal," he said.

Davis raised his eyebrows.

"Money," Archer said. "Enough to rebuild everything you lost. Enough to disappear somewhere comfortable and never have to worry about any of this again. In exchange for one thing."

"What thing?"

"The Curator," Archer said. "Tell me who it is. Give me a name. And I'll make sure you walk away from all of this intact."

Davis stared at him. And then he laughed, a real laugh this time, genuine and delighted, the laugh of a man who had just been handed something better than he'd expected. "You don't know," he said. "After all of this, you still don't know who it is."

"Do we want Davis taken out?" Ryker's voice in the earpiece. Quiet. Professional. Waiting.

Not yet. Archer kept his face still.

"This is your only chance to survive this, Austin," Archer said. "I want you to understand that. Whoever is behind you, whatever they've promised you, they are cleaning house. North. Lebowitz. Kelly. Daniela. Every single person who became inconvenient has been removed. You are becoming inconvenient."

"I'm becoming the head of the Lock and Key Society," Davis said. "That's what I'm becoming."

"You're becoming a liability," Archer said. "You've been loud and visible, and you've drawn attention to an operation that survives on invisibility. The Curator doesn't need you anymore. You served your purpose, and now you're a loose end."

Something moved across Davis's face. A flicker. Gone almost immediately, but there nonetheless. "You're trying to scare me."

"I'm trying to save your life, as much as that pains me," Archer said. "Think about Fisher."

Davis's expression shifted.

"Fisher has been pulling strings for a long time," Archer said. "The camera push at the board meeting. The witnesses for Lisbon. The audit request. None of that was your idea, was it? Fisher brought it to you. Fisher positioned it. Fisher told you how to run it." He paused. "Who do you think put you in line for the Society's top position? Who do you think has been managing this entire play? You think you've been running this, Austin. You haven't. You've been run."

The silence between them grew. Archer watched Davis try to process what he was being told. Denial was winning.

"Fisher needed someone to take the chair," Archer continued. "Someone whose name goes on the paperwork. Someone who bears the responsibility when things go wrong. Someone the board sees and reacts to, while Fisher operates in the background exactly the way he always has. Invisible. Unaccountable. Pulling every string while you stand in front of the room and take every consequence." He let that land. "You'd be the head of the Society in name only. Fisher would be the true head of the Society. And you would never, not once, be able to do anything about it."

Davis's jaw had tightened. The enjoyment was gone from his face, and something else had replaced it, something that moved between anger and uncertainty in a way that told Archer the seed had found soil.

"That's not—" Davis started.

"Think about it," Archer said. "Every major move you've made in the last year. Who suggested it first? Who brought you the information? Who told you when to push and when to wait?" He looked at him steadily. "Comes back to one man every single time. Eli Fisher. The Curator has chosen Fisher over you. You are now expendable. My guess is you won’t even live long enough to move into the Society apartment. Why keep you when you’ve been drawing attention to what’s going on? Fisher can step in now and take over. Fisher is a far more talented pawn than you’ve ever been."

Davis was quiet. His eyes had gone somewhere far from the park.

"It doesn't matter," Davis said finally. His voice had changed. Harder. The uncertainty burned off by something that had decided not to feel uncertain anymore. "Because you won't be around to see any of it."

His hand went into his coat.

"Boss," Ryker's voice, suddenly sharp. "He's got a weapon. Do you want⁠—"