Page 28 of Bound By Blood and Lies

A breathless laugh escapes me before I can stop it, “I told you we aren’t dying in this warehouse angel,” I cut her a look. “Not for him. Not for anyone.”

CHAPTER 9

ROMAN

The car door slams behind me with enough force to make the old stone flinch. The sound dies fast in the open air, swallowed by the cemetery and the wet, patient dark that always seems to gather around churches. I don’t linger. I cut across the grass with the folder still tucked under my arm. The wind tastes like damp earth and old leaves, and somewhere in the distance a fox screams like it’s being murdered.

I push through the wooden door of the church and the world shifts. The building is empty, cold and faintly echoing. Candle wax clings to the air even when there are no candles lit, and the stone under my boots is slick with centuries of footsteps. I move past the pews without looking at them, past the altar that means nothing to me, and head straight for the panel set low in the wall behind the pulpit. My hand finds the latch on instinct. It clicks and the wood gives.

A narrow stairwell breathes downward and the smell changes from polished religion to something older. The descent is steep and uneven, and the steps force you to place your feet carefully. A weak strip light flickers along the wall, welcoming me home. Halfway down the hallway I hear Riggs before I see anyone else.

“If this place collapses on us, I want it on record that I said we should’ve picked literally any other meeting spot,” he says and someone laughs, Atlas I think, but it’s quiet and tired.

The tunnel opens into the chamber and the heat hits my face. The fire pit in the centre is already going as flames lick high enough to cast moving shadows across the rough rock ceiling. The whole room is carved out of stone; cushions line the benches, blankets are thrown around, and there are bottles everywhere clustered near the fire and on the stone ledge.

Victor sees me first. He doesn’t speak, just tips his head in a small nod. Atlas is perched on the stone bench with his laptop balanced on his knees and the glow of the screen reflects off his face. Felix is leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, elbows wide with a bottle in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. Riggs is sprawled across the bench like he owns the place as he turns and grins at me.

“You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards,” Riggs says, as if that’s a normal greeting and not an insult.

“I have,” I reply, and it’s not entirely a joke.

Felix’s gaze narrows as he measures the tension in my shoulders. He stands without rushing as he crosses the room and presses a glass into my hand. He must have poured it the moment he heard my footsteps.

“Drink,” he simply says.

I don’t argue. I knock it back in one swallow and it burns a line down my throat that feels like punishment and relief. Felix doesn’t comment, he just pours me another without asking and I lift it to my mouth, slower this time.

“You went to see him,” Felix says, and it isn’t a question.

“I did,” I reply, lowering the empty glass to my knee.

“See who?” Atlas asks, even though his tone suggests he already knows. The glow of his laptop makes his face look sharper.

“My dad,” I say, taking another sip of my whiskey.

Riggs pulls a face like he sucked on a lemon. “How did that go? Did he give you a pat on the head and tell you to stop murdering assets, or did he do the dramatic shouting thing with the desk?”

“He did the desk,” I answer, and I try to keep my mouth straight as Felix exhales a chuckle through his nose.

“And then?”

“And then I gave him the files,” I say, watching the fire flare as a log shifts and spits.

“What!?” Riggs barks. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

I turn my head slightly, meeting his stare without blinking. “Because I needed to know where he stood. I’m done operating on assumptions. Either he was involved and I’d see it in his face, or he wasn’t and can actually help in ways we can’t.”

Riggs shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge the idea.

“For a genius that was fucking reckless and stupid, you know that right?”

“It was a calculated risk,” I snap back as heat rises in my chest at the implication that I’m reckless. “You don’t know my dad enough if you think I’m in danger from him. He’d rather kill himself than let his only heir die.”

“Yeah?” Riggs sneers. “Don’t flatter yourself, mate. We know you’ve got a dad who loves you. This isn’t about your life. It’s about the evidence and it’s about Fae. You fuck this up trusting the wrong person and we lose everything.”

“Fuck you, Riggs,” I bark. “You think there’s even a second that Fae isn’t at the forefront of my mind? The evidence is copied and scattered. Atlas has it, Felix has it, and the originals arelocked where nobody can get them without taking a wall down. I didn’t hand him our leverage. I tested him.”

“And?” Atlas cuts in as Riggs glares at me. “What was the outcome?”