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Earlier, my gaze had scanned the club floor, and I had scowled when I saw Cara and I turned away before she could look at me. Because shewouldlook at me, she always did. Forcing my thoughts back to the job at hand, I thought,who in this club was betraying me?
Inside or outside job, either way, I was about to find out. I supposed it was only a matter of time before someone turned on me.
This time the culprits hadn’t succeeded in completely burning down the place, and I hadn’t lost any of my merchandise. Lucky for them. The guilty were incredibly clever about it, as though they knew the situation had changed, and my places were being watched now. Rather than sneaking in after hours and destroying an almost empty building or waiting until it was final call to minimize the potential collateral damage as they had previously, they came in during one of the busiest hours and tried to start a fire while the place was packed.
Either they stopped caring about people getting hurt or killed, or they were holding on to some naïve hope the place would be evacuated before any irreversible damage was done.
Definitely not Ray’s work—she wouldn’t take the risk.
They would have gotten away with the attempt if it weren’t for one of my men about to take a piss at that moment. While sometimes it helped when things played out in my favor, I didn’t like leaving things to coincidence. It made me feel likesomeonewas interfering where they shouldn’t.
Two men and a woman were dragged up the stairs, across the balcony, and deposited at my feet as I sat in my office. This time, I’d had Tate lay out plastic ahead of time, and despite trying to hide it, they were already terrified before I’d even done anything to them. Being on a floor covered in plastic surrounded by men like me had that effect on people.
Good.
The woman went to stand, and one of my men kicked her legs out from underneath her. She collapsed before wincing and kneeling next to her comrades.
“You’ll stay on your knees,” Tate hissed out.
“Who are they?” I asked, looking at the people but directing the question at Sven.
“Patricia, Buddy, Damien. Low-life thugs, shit-for-hire types, too stupid to run something like this themselves.”
“Fuck you,” Damien spat, earning himself an elbow to the back of the head.
Watching them, my fingers drummed on my cheek. Do I kill them? Seemed pointless at this stage unless they forced my hand. First, I needed to know what they knew.
“Who do you work for?” I asked.
Patricia smirked, her long dirty hair falling around her face. “No one.”
“Do I really have to hurt you to get answers?”
Her eyes widened but only for a moment before the smug look returned. It was a façade, the fear was heavy in her eyes, and she wasn’t the only one. Damien might have had the balls to back chat my guys, but Buddy hadn’t said a word. His jaw was clenched tight, and eyes were darting around the room, no doubt looking for an escape.
He was the weak link.
With a tilt of my head in his direction, Buddy was grabbed and dragged across the floor until he was at my feet, practically between my legs. I leaned forward in my chair and wrapped my hands around his throat.
Not too tight, just a warning.
For now.
“Who do you work for?”
“N-no one.”
But his tone wasn’t as assured as Patricia’s, and he wouldn’t be able to keep up the lie. Snitches always exposed themselves. Whatever their motivation was for targeting my empire, I doubted Buddy believed in it enough to put his own life on the line.
Smart man.
Tightening my grip, his hands shot to mine, clawing at my fingers as he became more desperate for oxygen. I asked the question again, although I knew he wouldn’t be able to answer with the pressure I was applying to his throat. Behind my glasses, my eyes were blazing. I’d use it when the time was right—the black of my eyes always unsettled humans. The sunglasses were to maintain a front, to keep neutral, but also a tool to reveal my true dark nature when I wanted.
Dramatic, maybe, but it worked.
It also meant I could watch my club without anyone being sure exactly where I was looking. It kept people on edge.
“Fuck, man, he can’t breathe!” Damien finally spoke up as the color of Buddy’s face started to change, bluing as the oxygen failed to reach his brain and his body desperately sought what it could, his skin rapidly shifting between colors. Without loosening my grip, I turned my gaze to Damien.
