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I shift in my seat, crossing one leg over the other. The electricity from earlier today morphs into something uncomfortable, almost painful, tearing through my ears to elbows and everything in between. The past always comes knocking in those moments when my guards go down. Even a little bit.
Those images from my past I have to block out and ignore.
I’m stronger than they are.
Stronger now than I’d been before, and I’d never look in the mirror and see the weak, pathetic teenager on the side of the road again. I haven’t seen her, in fact, since the man commanding the room knelt in front of me in the rain, took off his jacket to lay it across my shoulders, and guided me from the streets without ever threatening to put me back there.
Fingers snap, and when I come out of my memories, Broderick is glaring at me. Urging me with his dark look to pay fucking attention.
I sit up straighter and struggle to listen to what Dougherty has to say. He’s newer and replaced the very dead Gabriel Blackwell as head reaper for the Black Market Syndicate.
Dougherty isn’t nearly as good as Blackwell.
A fact that Antoni has never failed to remind the man about.
“You didn’t leave the lighter on the last hit.” Antoni smirks. “Are you stupid or just a pain in my ass? Why should I have to go behind you and clean up? It’s ridiculous. This is why you’re paid the big bucks.”
“I don’t need to take advice from a man who hates getting blood on his shoes,” Dougherty fires back, “I know for a fact you’ve got your dry cleaners on speed dial in case you get a little messy. It’s ridiculous.”
“Focus a little more on doing your goddamn job and less on my dry cleaners,” Antoni snaps.
The tension in the room grows, thickens, and Broderick’s shoulders go straight. He eyes me, giving me our signal, a silent urge to handle this shit. He likes to test me sometimes, to see what I’m made of, and as much as it makes me nervous to have his eyes on me, it’s gotten me here.
It’s moved me up the ladder considerably.
I clear my throat to grab the room’s attention. “Perhaps we can stop this dick-measuring contest and get back to the point of why we’ve gathered today. Hmm?”
“If I wanted a bitch’s opinion, I would have brought my dog,” Dougherty quips. “At least she does what she’s told.”
“Thisdog will have a fabulous time chopping off your dick, the same one that so clearly lost you this contest, and roasting it over the open flame.” I point over my shoulder to the fireplace with the black stone hearth perfect for driving away the chill in the air. Broderick has one in almost every room. “It’s easy to replace you, Big D. Remember that. Especially if you keep fucking up.”
I know Broderick doesn’t want to have to speak up in these meetings. He demands perfection even from those around him, even when they don’t realize they’re falling short.
And him always having to talk over someone else at a meeting is a flawed system. I’d learned that fast from the beginning.
Hence, the signal.
The rest of the meeting isn’t anything exciting, either. Dougherty flashes me a look loaded with rage and a threat for later. He’s one we’ll have to watch out for in the future, I’m sure. It’s good for our reapers to have a bit of fire, to execute their targets with practicality and, yeah, maybe a little bit of flair.
But this is the second time Dougherty has forgotten to leave the signature lighter to mark the kills as ours, and it’s going to make us look weak in front of our competitors. The little men always rise and fall, but Broderick is large enough to block out the sun. The others don’t survive long in this game.
Which is exactly the way we like it.
The Syndicate is established. We’ve made our mark, and for the past ten years, I’ve been part of it. Time for me to shine, too.
Antoni takes up more time than not updating the core group on hits, merchandise, and expansion. He’s looking into establishing more trade routes through territories belonging to families outside of our influence. I make a note to look into some of those routes later.
The meeting finally ends, and my knees are starting to get achy from sitting for too long. Damn these heels. They don’t make things easy. I’d much rather have left them downstairs, but bare feet will just incite pregnancy jokes up here.
“Aria?”
The sound of my name has me stopping dead in my tracks.
I turn to Broderick in question, the file folder still clutched in my hand and absolutely forgotten during the meeting. Fuck.
“Yes?”
Broderick crooks a finger. “I need to see you in my office. Now.”
