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“What the fuck were you thinking?”Ryan growls, jabbing his hand in my direction.
“Clearly, he wasn’t,” Barclay jibes, crossing his foot over his knee as he relaxes back in the limo.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I snap at Barclay. He doesn't get to disappear and return using my fuckup to take the attention off him. “We don't say anything,” I warn my brothers as we near my father’s estate.
“Jay, let’s think about thi—”
“WE SAY NOTHING!” I roar. The Panel is unforgiving. They take no prisoners. Literally, and yet I have one locked in a room at my penthouse. I search the gaze of each of my closest friends. Uncertainty and anger flash back at me. We never chose this life; we were born into it. Educated and raised to honour The Panel with our every breath. It is a way of life, a culture many do not possess the luxury to know about. A passage of truth, and we have spent all our years abiding and cultivating its very essence… and I just jeopardised it for the sake of my dick.
The Panel has been our birthright from the moment we exited the womb. Each of our fathers has devoted their life to The Panel, a governing body working in the shadows, a brotherhood, if you may. We pull the wool over the eyes of the world and manipulate politicians, law enforcement, and businessmen to herd the sheep for us. We are the embodiment of power. A conspiracy none can prove, and the very reason you live or die.
My eyes sweep the back of the limo. These three men have been in my life from my first breath and will be to my last. They are my brothers. We share no blood, but an oath alone is enough to cement our loyalty.
Seth leans across the space between us, slapping a hand on my back.
“Live by The Panel,” Seth vows his solidarity to me.
“Die by The Panel.” I swallow thickly, knowing I’ve put my brothers on the line too.
One after the other, Ryan, and Barclay pledge their kinship.
I sit back and adjust my cufflink, their words quelling my uneasy disposition. It’s not unusual for my father to call a meeting, but it is the first time I’m angered by it. Avery is locked in the spare room, so I don’t wish to waste my time listening to my father wave his power around like a used condom when I could be with her, but mostly, I’m concerned he already knows about her.
He’ll demand I dispose of her.
The Panel will hold a hearing, and once the decision has been made, any resilience will be seen as treason to our very being.
A few minutes later, Rubin gains admission to my father’s estate and we head up the long driveway to park outside the imposing building.
“Let’s go find out who he wants us to kill.” Ryan grins falsely. It’s no secret that my brothers barely tolerate my father. He may be the head of The Panel, but he is a dismal husband and father. The power of leadership has inflated his ego and made him lose sight of why our ancestors founded the organisation all those centuries ago.
We strived for a new world, a better one, but there is more evil than good in this world, and so we had to become something that even evil would fear. We could be unstoppable if only my father wasn’t blindsided by his own ego.
“That’s my father’s car. Something is wrong,” Barclay mutters as we exit the vehicle and head inside. I suck in a deep breath.
They know about Avery.
We are the beating heart, the pulse at the very centre of everything that keeps the world turning. We each have our roles to play, cultivating our professions to open avenues and lay foundations. We may reside in London, but our vein-like reach is beyond anything imaginable.
This property has been in the family for generations, and when my father passes away, I will inherit it along with his title of head of the council. Leader of The Panel. A butler escorts us to the drawing room where our fathers await us.
“Father,” I greet, inclining my head at the other elders.
“Gentlemen, please have a seat.” Alistair Thayer gestures to the empty seats and we each get comfortable as Agnes, one of his maids, brings a tray of brandy round. “Drink?” my father offers.
I take a glass and a cigar as I watch my father closely, trying to read his body language.
“Messy work with Marsden,” he comments.
Like I give a fuck.
“Why are we here?” I cut to the chase. There is no love lost between us. I respect The Panel and honour it with my every being, but I despise my father.
“It seems I’ve got myself into rather a pickle.” Alistair smirks lightly and nods to Cyrus, Ryan’s father. “Give them the file.” We each pass a file along and open it to find a photo of my father in a compromising situation with the daughter of Augustus Henry, a widely favoured politician who advocates for women’s rights and is the on the board of the human trafficking foundation, not to mention his daughter is nineteen and my father looks to be having more fun than she does.
“That certainly is a pickle,” I remark, my eyes offended and thoroughly grateful I don't take after him in some departments.
Seth clears his throat to dispel his laughter, and my father slams his hand on the table.
