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Runningmytongueovermy teeth, nostrils flaring, I climb the imperial staircase two by two. At the top of the stairs, the hallway splits into two separate directions and I turn right, storming into my study. It’s where we conduct most of our Sin Eaters meetings. Byzantine is already here, Bastian too, along with other men from our crew.
“Everyone out except you two,” I bark, heading toward my desk next to the large window.
“We weren’t finished,” someone says behind me.
I turn fast on my heels, eager to see which idiot thought it was a good idea to undermine me. Diego stands near the fireplace to my left and by the expression under his full black beard, I can tell he’s regretting every decision he’s ever made. He’s a big guy, bigger than I am, but that doesn’t prevent me from lurching towards him and grabbing him by the ear, dragging him out into the hallway. If I’m going to make him bleed, better not do it on several thousands worth of designer carpet.
I slam my fist hard into his gut and he immediately wheezes and doubles over onto his knees. Before he even touches the ground, I bend my leg and knee him in the nose. I can feelandhear the bone crack before his eyes roll back and he lands hard on his ass. Bastard better not have damaged my hardwood floors.
Stepping into the study, I glare at anyone who isn’t my best friend or cousin.
“I said get the fuck out.” Striding through the room, I rake my hair back in place “And get that piece of shit out of my sight.”
A chorus ofyes sircan be heard before the door closes and Byzantine and Bastian simply stare at me questioningly. Ignoring them, I take my suit jacket off and carefully fold it over the chair before finally sitting behind my custom-made mahogany desk. I grab my phone and check my emails.
The two of them haven’t stopped staring since I reentered.
“What,” I say flatly, my eyes still looking down.
“Bad day?” Byzantine asks, clearly entertained by my sudden outburst.
“He had it coming,” I growl.
“Sure.” He sinks into the chair in front of me and Bastian follows suit.
My muscles grow tight, slamming my phone down as I finally glare at them both. Byzantine is sporting an amused look on his face, his lopsided grin in prominent display while Bastian just seems uninterested as usual. He reaches for his laptop, most likely trying to evade any more of this interaction.
I can tell my second-in-command is mulling his words over and I bet Sunny has already told him that I met with Lenix this morning. My body is vibrating with the promise of knocking this fucker out if he even utters a word about it. I smirk, goading him to do just that.
He holds my stare for another few seconds, but finally just sighs, clearly conceding. Leaning forward, he hands me an unsealed manila envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“The names you asked for,” Bastian answers for him, eyes still locked on his screen, bleached, almost white, blond hair falling over his forehead.
Ripping the thing out of Byzantine’s hands, I fish out the papers tucked inside and give it a quick glance. Some names I recognize and some I don’t.
“Good,” I mutter.
I drop the papers and envelope on the desk, stand up and head for the wet bar. I pour myself two fingers worth of mezcal and slam it back. I pour another, dropping some ice cubes into the tumbler this time before heading back to my desk.
“Not in a sharing mood?” Byzantine quips.
“Jesus fucking Christ, does everyone have a death wish today?” I grit out exasperated. I sit back down and grab hold of the papers again. “Pour your own damn drink.”
He chuckles while standing up, making himself a whiskey and then one for Bastian who takes his with a quick nod.
“Who’s everyone?” My best friend asks, continuing his grating questioning.
I close my eyes, and inhale through my nose, smoothing over my mustache, my jaw clenching so hard that I can feel it all the way up to my fucking skull.
“I swear to god, if you don’t get out of my ass, and stop asking me stupid fucking questions, I’m going to reach over this goddamn desk and cut out your tongue.”
Byzantine doesn’t react, not even a flinch. Just sits there, sipping on his whiskey, assessing, eyebrow slightly raised, green eyes glinting with mirth.
Bastian eventually cuts the tension by closing his laptop. “Later.” He shoves his computer in his bag and promptly walks out the door. All the while, Byzantine continues to stare and I continue to fantasize about ringing his fucking neck.
Finally, he places his now empty glass beside him and stands. “Let me know if you need any more intel on some of those names. I’ll have Bastian find out more.”
