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“Welcome home, Zaquiel,” he said, touching the glass to mine.
I smiled back. “Thank you, sir. It’s good to be here.”
Then it was Ridley’s turn. He raised his glass to her, unsmiling. “And welcome to New York, Miss Crawford.”
She stilled in the act of touching her glass to his. Dismay flickered across her face. “How do you know my name?” She glanced at me.
I shook my head; I hadn’t told him.
“You kidnapped my son,” was his reply. “Did you think I wouldn’t do everything I could to find out exactly who you were?”
Ridley took a small sip of her wine and set the glass down. She lifted her chin. “So now what?”
“That depends,” he said. “I’d like some answers first, starting with everything you know about this plan to kill me and my sons. But first, sit.”
Ridley looked at me. I gave her a small nod, and this time, she sat next to me on the couch. I took her hand, underlining that despite having kidnapped me, she’d earned my loyalty and trust.
Her fingers were cold. I curled my hand around them, trying to warm them.
Father noticed, of course. But he didn’t say anything, simply retook his seat. He leaned back in the leather chair, eyeing Ridley. A trick he used to make underlings uncomfortable.
Ridley eyed him back. Nothing betrayed that she was nervous or upset—not her heart rate nor her breath nor even her expression.
But I knew she was. Even if I hadn’t been able to feel it through our link, I’d have known. The more emotionless Ridley Crawford got, the more she was feeling.
I wanted to pull her into my arms, but I settled for squeezing her hand.
Father arched a brow. “Talk, slayer.”
All the fight went out of her. Her shoulders slumped. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a slayer. Not anymore.”
Father frowned. “So you’re not the Reaper?”
“No, that much is true. I was known as Reaper. It’s because I’m a rogue.” Her voice was toneless, but I felt the pain underlying her statement.
“Because of me,” I inserted. “She wouldn’t give me up to her alpha. Two nights ago, her alpha took her off the operation and demanded to know where I was. But Ridley wouldn’t tell her.”
Father pursed his lips. “Indeed.”
Ridley took a deep breath, let it out.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” she told me. She looked at my dad and seemed to come to a decision. “I don’t know the whole of it,” she said, “but SI has declared war on you. The plan is to take out you and your sons. It’s called Operation Angel. Op A, for short. You know a slayer was sent after Gabriel.”
Father nodded, and Ridley continued, explaining that the plan had been to slay Gabriel and Rafe while kidnapping me. I would’ve been staked eventually, but first, I was to be used as bait.
“At first all we intended was to use Zaq to draw you out of New York. The end game was always to get to you. Even in Paris, the only reason they let Zaq go was because I convinced them it was the smartest way to get to you.”
“I see.” Father steepled his fingers and brought them to his mouth. “I can’t say I’m surprised. This is why the syndicates need an ally on SI’s Board. SI has changed from the early days. The work you slayers do is necessary—the vampire world can’t always be trusted to police itself—but there are some bad actors using SI for their own ends, like Prima Victorine and my own lieutenant.”
“I’m afraid you may be right.” Ridley rolled in her lips like it pained her to admit it. “I believe in what we do. But this vendetta against your family—it’s personal. And it’s wrong.”
Father tapped his steepled fingers against his lips. “You will tell your story to my allies? Verify that this Operation Angel was implemented to take out me and my sons?”
Ridley’s eyelids fluttered. She slid her free hand into her pocket, and I knew she was fingering a switchblade.
My father tensed and brought his hands back down. I gave a little shake of my head and he settled back.
