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Dalton stands, getting in my face. “I can handle it,” he tells me, rage burning through his eyes. “The. Plan. Stays. The. Same. I’m not getting attached.”
Cross scoffs from his position near my window, his arm braced over his head as he stares out at the darkening city below. Venom slithers down his arm and weaves through his fingers, the sleek black snake more than just a pet to him. They share some kind of bond, something I’ll never understand. All I know is that snake is a little bitch. If anyone apart from Cross touches her, she’ll sink those fangs into their throat without a second thought. “Keep telling yourself that,” he mutters, not even bothering to look our way.
Dalton balls his hands into fists. “Just tell me what you found.”
I watch him a moment, each of us locked in the other’s stare, and the longer I hold it, the harder it becomes for him to keep control. He breaks, glancing away, knowing damn well who holds the power here. Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pull out my phone and bring up the image of Oakley’s bedside table. I flip it around to show him and he curses, seeing the black calling card of Empire and the dagger discarded beside it. “While you were busy fucking your new girlfriend on my roof, we were in her apartment finding this.”
“Fuck,” he spits, running his hand over his face, knowing damn well what that means. After all, we’ve been the ones to leave the exact same message a million times before. “Someone’s put a hit out on her head.”
I nod, glancing at the image as he hands it back to me. Empire is full of old traditions and rituals, but on top of that, they believe in a fair fight. Whoever broke into her apartment and left this message right under our fucking noses, they were leaving a warning. Oakley Quinn is going to die.
“You know who left it?” he asks.
Sawyer shakes his head, striding toward us. “No fucking idea. That’s why we brought her here. You know how these things work—”
“Twenty-four hours,” Dalton states, knowing it all too well. When you leave a warning, you follow through and make it quick. It’s a sick game really. The majority of people these warnings are left for have no fucking clue what it means. “You know what this means, right? One of The Circle members gave up her name. They betrayed you.”
I nod, remembering the second I saw the calling card in Oakley’s apartment and coming to the same conclusion. “And the only reason someone would want her name is because they want to take her out and challenge me for leadership.”
“It’ll never work,” Cross says. “You’re too strong, and you’re the rightful heir. The blood of Empire runs through your veins. They can try all they want, but they can’t take Empire. It’ll never happen.”
“No,” I agree, “But they’ll fucking die trying, even if it means putting a bullet between my eyes in the process.”
Dalton starts to pace. “So what do we do?”
“For now, all we can do is wait,” I tell him, letting him in on the plan. “Assuming she got the calling card some time in the early hours of Saturday morning and it’s now Sunday night, we have to make our move now. So, you’re gonna take your ass back into that cell and put on the fucking show of a lifetime. Make her believe you’re on her side. Sawyer’s going to stay here in case you need anything while Cross and I head back to the apartment block to take this fucker out.”
Dalton nods, knowing there’s no other choice, and as if making a point, Cross strides across the room and picks up his gun off my pool table before checking over his silencer. Tonight we plan on making this game a quick one. No lingering. We’ll be in and out, and when this hitman arrives expecting to find Oakley hidden away in her apartment, it’s me he’ll find, my gun pressed right up against his temple.
He’ll never see it coming.
Cross checks his bullets, though he won’t be needing them. I fully intend to take out this hitman myself. Tonight, this is personal. An attempt on Oakley’s life is a direct attack against me, and I don’t take this shit lightly. When I rise to power in forty moons, everybody will know what I stand for. They will fear me, but unlike my father, they will respect me.
I join Cross at the pool table, collecting everything I need and slipping my dagger into position on my belt, preparing myself to take this motherfucker’s life as effortlessly as though I was selecting what to have for dinner.
The sun disappeared below the horizon an hour ago and we’re quickly running out of time. This hitman won’t show up until late in the night, but I fully intend to be there, ready and waiting for when he finally arrives. What can I say? I’m a calculated motherfucker. I don’t take a single move without knowing what will come from it. Which is exactly how I knew damn well that allowing Dalton to get close to Oakley was going to be a mistake, but it’s not my mistake to learn from. He understood the consequences and still insisted, and because of that, he’s going to get hurt.
Catching movement across my penthouse, I glance up from the pool table to see both Dalton and Sawyer in the kitchen. Dalton holds a glass of water, slowly sipping, while Sawyer mutters something to him, probably reminding him to keep his head up. Not a moment later, Dalton lets out a heavy sigh and puts his glass down, making his way back to the cell with Sawyer hot on his heels to chain him back up and make sure the door locks securely behind him. The tension between them is long gone.
Venom slithers over my hand on the pool table, bringing my attention back to what I was doing, and with Cross ready to go, we don’t prolong this another second. He scoops Venom off the table and the snake weaves through his fingers, settling comfortably in his hand.
Within the space of fifteen minutes, we’re pulling to a stop outside the apartment complex, my Escalade parked right beside Dalton’s Harley. We slip out into the night, moving around the back of the building and slipping in through Sawyer’s bedroom window, making sure we’re not seen by anyone on the street.
Peering through the peephole in his front door, we find the hallway clear and slip out of the small one-bedroom apartment. It takes barely ten steps to reach Oakley and Cara’s door, and before I even have the chance to knock, the door opens and we slip inside.
Cara looks up at me with big eyes as I scan the room, making sure we’re not too late. I know exactly what she wants, but that won’t be happening tonight. Hell, any other night. I lost interest a long time ago. The only reason I’ve allowed her into my bed is simply out of convenience. Besides, she’s Sawyer’s twin sister, and that shit just gets complicated.
“Here,” I say, handing her a set of keys. “You’re sleeping in Sawyer’s apartment tonight. Don’t come back here until I say you can. Got it?”
Disappointment flares in her eyes as she flicks her gaze toward Oakley’s bedroom. “Is this about the calling card we found on the back of her door?”
“You know damn well it is,” Cross says, striding right by her, the two of them unable to see eye to eye, though who the fuck knows why. She’s never liked him and simply out of principle, he refuses to like her.
I meet her stare. “You should have told me,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have found out after breaking in here last night. We put her here because I thought I could trust your judgment. Do I need to reconsider who I keep in my corner?”
Cara swallows hard and shakes her head. “Don’t be an ass,” she says. “You know you can trust me. I thought you left the card.”
“I didn’t.”
