AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I keep my expression neutral. “We have our theories.”
It won’t help his mood to know that a group of the best assassins I’ve ever seen are coming after him. We can use it to our advantage.
“Theories? What am I supposed to do with theories?” Spencer explodes. He moves to a bureau and opens it to reveal bottles of pills and packets of powder. He’s holding more products than a pharmacy. “What do you want me to do? Wait around for someone to kill me?”
“You’re under our protection,” I remind him in my calmest voice. A client like Spencer needs to be handled delicately. “In the meantime, you need to carry on as normal. The Dukes will ensure nothing happens to you.”
“If one more man dies, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Seb snarls. “Hire someone else? Because, without us, you might already be dead.”
“You paid for us to keep you alive,” I say to soften the blow, “and that’s what we’ll do.”
Spencer tips white powder onto the back of his hand and snorts it.
“You better,” he replies, wiping the remnants from his nostrils. “Keep me updated.”
I stand. “We’ll show ourselves out.”
The Killers Club is hunting him, and we are hunting them. Spencer is our bait. When they come for him, we’ll be ready.
CHAPTER14
SEB
Iball my hands, struggling against my better instincts to pummel them into his leering face. Spencer Bexley represents everything I hate about the life I was born into. If we weren’t intent on finding Bram, I’d vote to let the Killers Club have him.
I grew up in a grand house, like Spencer’s mansion, with my parents and older brother. A brother who is diligently following the path my parents laid out. He’s married with one child and another on the way.
“What’s our plan?” I ask Freddie as soon as we’re outside, shrugging off the energy of the place. Those old buildings are suffocating. They’re mausoleums to tradition and to the people who want to keep the ruling class in power.
His eyebrows crease, deep in thought.
“We’ve been going about this wrong,” he says. “We’ve been hunting for the Killers Club. Instead of looking for them, we should focus on their clients. If we find the person who wants Spencer dead, maybe we can track them. If not, all we have to do is wait. Spencer’s a sitting duck. They’ll come for him eventually.”
My phone rings, and I scowl at the screen when I see it’s my mother.
“You should take that,” Freddie says. “You can’t avoid her forever.”
“I can try,” I grumble.
She never calls for a casual catch-up. She only rings when she wants something or has an invitation to an event I don’t want to attend.
“You still have to keep up appearances,” Freddie reminds me. “It’s part of the job.”
The other Dukes have created fake businesses, but not me. I must carefully curate my image and juggle my public and private life. It’s hard to strike a balance when my family likes to traipse me around like a show pony, hoping I’ll change my mind and accept my destiny.
“Fine,” I relent, accepting the call.
“Sebastian, have you been avoiding me?” Mum’s shrill tone makes me hold the phone away from my ear. Her greetings are always an accusation. “I haven’t been able to reach you lately.”
“Work’s been busy,” I say. “There have been some significant developments in the companies I’ve invested in. You know how it is.”
“I heard all about the deaths of the co-founders of that computer company. What a tragedy,” she says, but there’s no sympathy in her voice, only excitement about the prospect of having gossip to share with her book club. “You invested in them, didn’t you? It must be terrible for business.”
She fills her days with charity galas and functions but still manages to keep tabs on what I’m doing. The palace press focuses on the ‘major royals’, but they still monitor what the wider family is up to. They’ll do anything to avoid a scandal.
“If anything, their deaths have helped raise awareness,” I say. “Their new successor is well-placed to take them to the next level.”
