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“One way or another, I’m getting the intel I need to put a bullet between Chapman’s eyes.” I’m going to end this once and for all, and I’m going to make sure that no one ever fucking crosses me again.
“Now I understand why Fred calls you the best of the lot.” He grins, but when his gaze lands on Eve again, his face falls with a pained twist of his lips. “Jess needs to be told. Eve would want her here.”
She would. I know that, but even now, I don’t want to share her with anyone. Not even her family.
“Do you have someone watching over her and George?” More than Jess being here, Eve would want her safe. And I’ll do anything she wants to bring her back to me.
“Casper has men watching their place. I told you,” he says with an affirmative nod, “I have resources.”
“I need your help.”
“It’s why I’m here. That and to right my father’s wrongs.” Bracing himself on the foot of the bed, he stares at Eve intently. “Joe was fucking brutal force. I owe it to him to make this right.”
“Good, because things are about to get messy, and I don’t have time to justify myself to anyone.”
Ryan nods. “I’m a soldier, Sloane. I’m not here for the pompous shit. You give me a target, and I kill. No questions.”
If this is the case, Ryan Murphy is the man I need to count on. Bastard or misfit, it doesn’t matter, as long we’re on the same page.
Shoot to kill. Kill to live. This isn’t about justice for the dead anymore. It’s about protecting and surviving. They touched my darling, and now the Coster Kings must die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
HENRY
“Do you remember why you’re here? Why I kept you with me?”
Andrew looks at me with a confused frown while the others all stand at the side of the room watching. My mother’s eyes widen when I flick the knife open and circle him once.
“You’re here because you saved my life. I trusted you to keep watch of Eve because you proved yourself faithful to me.”
“Henr—” My mother stops when I urge her to shut up with a raise of my finger as I round Andrew again and pause behind him.
“You’re no longer my man, but I’m still going to show you mercy.” With a deep plunge of the blade to his back, I yank the knife forcefully into the bottom of his spine, ignoring the loud, guttural groans of pain that bellow from him with every tug of my hand. “I’ll spare you your pulse and your breaths, but your life is done.”
His legs collapse beneath him. A red torrent of blood soaks through his white T-shirt and down his jeans as the blade pulls out of his back when he falls on the ground. I’ll allow the doctors to save him, but they won’t fix him. He’ll never walk again, and every day that he struggles to live life, he will remember that he betrayed me. He helped put Eve in this place. Even when she walks out of here, I will not forgive him. I will not forgive anyone that had a hand in it.
“Take him away,” I tell the medical staff on standby. They make quick work of getting Andrew out of my sight before I continue with the rest of this meeting.
“Let this be a warning to you.” I look at my mother. A horrified, sickened expression ashens her face. “Whatever happens to Eve happens to you.”
“You’ve lost your senses,” she chokes out.
“You put us all at risk, and you”—I turn towards Simon as he watches me with a disgusted scowl—“you will leave, and you will never come back. I never want to see you again. God help you if after today you and I stand on the same ground or share the same air.”
The Princess stands in front of the doors, blocking her favourite child from leaving. “I will not allow you to—"
“Move, Your Highness,” I order, pulling my gun from the pocket of my hoodie and releasing the safety clip. The sound is low, but she hears it loud enough that she thinks twice about her argument when I aim the Glock at his head. “Move, or his brain will decorate your clothes.”
“You can’t do this, Henry. There has to be a vote. The King won’t allow it!”
“Yes, he will. He already has.”
Disbelief scrunches her face. Who knew someone so beautiful and charming could appear so disagreeable. I gesture for Percival to show her the correspondence between me and her cousin, the King of England. I will keep his secret, and he will let me rule this society my way.
“But he’s the Earl of Rochester, the rightful owner of the seat…” she tells Percival.
“Yes, Your Highness. The King has allowed him to keep his seat,” he tells her, taking the correspondence from her and folding it back into his pocket.
