Page 84 of My Unhinged Alphas
She turns more fully toward me now. “So you admit it.”
“I admit I’m not stupid.”
That seems to irritate her. “You expect me to just sit here and accept whatever vague answer you feel like giving me?”
“I expect you to keep trying.”
She stares at me for a second, then looks out the windshield. “Fine. What exactly is the Brotherhood?”
There it is.
Straight to it.
I drum my fingers once against the steering wheel. “Depends who’s asking.”
“I am.”
“I noticed.”
She exhales through her nose. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She goes quiet, waiting me out. Smart move. Most people rush to fill silence. I don’t mind it. But after a few seconds I decide to give her a little.
“The Brotherhood isn’t one thing,” I say. “That’s the first part people get wrong. It’s not some club with matching rings and dramatic speeches.”
Her mouth twitches despite herself. “You do seem like the matching-rings type.”
I laugh.
God, she’s annoying.
And hot.
“It’s a network,” I say. “Layers. Cells. People who know different pieces of the same machine. Most of them don’t know the whole shape, and that’s on purpose.”
She listens closely. I can feel it.
“And the Apostles?” she asks.
“Higher up.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“It tells you enough.”
She gives me a flat look. “It really doesn’t.”
I sigh, like she’s the difficult one here. “The Apostles are the ones who send things down. Orders. Corrections. Punishments. Direction, when they feel like being generous.”
“And Andrew?”
At that, I glance at her again. “Andrew is a name,” I say. “Maybe a person. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that when something comes from an Apostle, people listen.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s convenient.”
“For them? Very.”
