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Freddie’s bloodshot eyes don’t stray from his laptop screen when I pick up the cold, untouched mug of coffee next to him. I sniff the liquid suspiciously. It’s instant. Fuck, this is bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink an instant coffee since we’ve known each other, aside from the time I pranked him on April Fools’.
“Do you want another?” I ask.
He ignores me, madly tapping away on his laptop and monitoring the news for any updates. He’s called in favours with some of his old friends from the force. A source confirmed a bomb obliterated Collingsbrook Manor, but they’re keeping the truth out of the public eye. Their investigation is at the highest security clearance level. From what we’ve heard, the police are chasing their tails and are no closer to finding the person responsible.
“Hello!” I wave a hand in front of his vacant face. “Earth to Freddie!”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he snaps, then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I can’t find anything.”
We’ve increased our efforts in our search for the Killers Club and rescuing Bram if he’s still alive. We’re looking through files of mysterious deaths and seeing if we can make any links. The safe house living room has been transformed into our crime investigation room, pinning papers and photographs to boards on the walls and using string to connect the dots. Then there’s Rose…
She vanished into thin air.
We received confirmation that her body wasn’t among the dead at the manor. The police are speaking to everyone present that night, but they haven’t been able to track her down either. Freddie’s contact will notify us if they hear anything, but she’s been in witness protection before. She’s used to disappearing and mustn’t want to be found, although I can’t shake the disappointment that she’s not been in touch. It’s Callen’s fault; he scared her away.
“There’s nothing on CCTV,” Freddie says. He’s spent painstaking hours trawling through footage from a camera close to Rose’s flat. He hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly, and finding Rose has become an obsession. “If she’s not gone home, where did she go?”
“She’s not dead,” I remind him.
“Not dead isn’t good enough.” He inflates his cheeks with air, then releases it in an exasperated puff. “We’re missing something.”
Being here, secluded, isn’t good for him. He’s going to lose his mind if we stay cooped up in the cottage for much longer, but we can’t risk returning to the Dukes’ central base after the Killers Club compromised it. Thankfully, it’s not our only property in the city. Returning to London soon could break Freddie's computer trance.
“We’ll find them,” I reassure him. “Both of them.”
“You don’t know that,” he growls.
I don’t, but I feel it. We’re down to two Dukes. While Freddie is on a downward spiral, I need to step up as his second in command. We need to fix this. Our family is falling apart, and we’re destroying ourselves without any help from the Killers Club.
The breeze whistles through the floorboards upstairs. I’m not used to a house being so quiet. Callen’s been gone a few days, and his presence has left a gaping hole behind. When Freddie told me about his daughter and what Lord McGowan did, I could understand Callen’s motivations, but putting Rose in harm’s way was unforgivable.
I groan as my phone rings. Mum has already called five times today, but I keep sending her to voicemail. It’s easier than listening to another lecture about how much of a disappointment I am to the family.
While I reject the call, a knock at the front door startles us.Is it her?Freddie leaps up, vaulting over the chair and racing to it. My heartbeat increases, daring to hope, until I hear my brother’s voice.
“Where is he?” Ralph demands in his usual entitled fashion.
Freddie mutters something and steps aside for Ralph to stroll in.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding out,” Ralph says, surveying the clues we’ve stuck to the walls. “Bloody hell, I thought you were losing the plot at the ball, but this is… something else. Don’t you think this has gone on for long enough?”
Freddie barges past, knocking into Ralph’s shoulder, grabbing his laptop, and stomping up the stairs. He doesn’t get involved in my family business, but, for once, it’d be nice to have his support.
“This isn’t supposed to be a place for waifs and strays,” Ralph comments as he leaves. Although, he doesn’t give Freddie the same look of disgust that he gave Callen. “This is an official building.”
“A building no one has used for years,” I retort. “How did you know where to find me?”
Ralph ignores me and continues, “We knew you weren’t in London, and Mother found out we were being billed for energy usage here. Do you realise how embarrassing that was for her? Even our uncle heard about it!”
So? The King has enough money. An electricity bill wasn’t going to threaten the Crown jewels.
“Don’t you have your own family to look after, or is life not so perfect, after all?” I ask. “Chasing around after your screw-up of a younger brother seems to be a regular theme lately.”
He scowls. “There are things I’d rather be doing than cleaning up your mess.”
“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” I cross my arms. Ralph’s gaze strays to an overspilling stack of dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink in the next room. “I’d offer you tea, but I don’t think you’ll be staying long.”
“You’re coming with me,” Ralph says. “Back to London.”
