Page 75 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

Salvatore forgets about the rest of his shirt buttons, turning around to face me. He stares right at me for a beat, keeping quiet.

Great. He knows what this means as well as me. We have officially crossed that line, and that means things are about to get complicated.

But every time I look at his face, all outside noise disappears.

Perhaps love is quite simple. It’s humans that make it complicated.

I take a quick shower, throw on some semi-professional clothes, and make coffee while Salvatore welcomes the six men into the room.

One of those men is Robert.

“Ophelia’s apartment was broken into last night, so she will be staying with me for the time being,” he explains.

Robert tosses Salvatore a questioning look, lowering his voice. “How much did you tell her?”

“Oh, I told him enough,” I interject, placing the coffee pot on the table. “And to address the elephant in the room, you can trust me to keep quiet about your business.”

“Of course,” says Robert. “Because you signed the non-disclosure.”

“No. Because they’re in love,” counters another. “And when you love someone, you promise to take their secrets to the grave. Of course, love is temporary.” The man flashes me a scornful look. “Make her sign the non-disclosure just in case.”

“That won’t be necessary,” says Salvatore, sitting at the head of the table. “Now, gentlemen, have we finished fluffing around? It’s time we discuss matters that actually concern you.” A thick silence drifts across the table as Salvatore nets his hands, addressing everyone. “Good. I called you here this morning to update you on the Crows. We finally have a lead on who the new leader could be. To make this simple, let's call this person the Reaper.”

“Ben would be more fitting,” I offer.

All six men turn and face me.

“What is she talking about?”

Salvatore flashes me a concerned glance, clearing his throat. “Last night at the fundraising event, I was approached by David Hale. He told me that he broke into the self-storage unit.”

“Philanthropists do all kinds of shit and call it charitable,” spits one of the men. “Tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.”

“David is a former Crow, like myself and Robert. He wants to put this to bed as much as we do.”

“Breaking in is messy.”

“Indeed, which is why I refuse to send people over there myself. Lenny lost his life.”

“No,” interjects Robert. “Somebody killed him in the hospital…”

Typical.

“Wasn’t me,” I confess, holding up my hands.

“No,” says Salvatore. “It was the Reaper.”

Robert furls his lip, looking like he wants to strangle his older cousin. “That’s it? You’re gonna let this slide just because she⁠—”

“Ophelia has been digging into Crow information because her family are loosely tied to the organization,” explains Salvatore. “The unit used to belong to Ophelia’s late mother.”

“And what was inside?”

“Not much, just old journals about her failed relationship. There’s a photograph of the man.”

“Let me guess—he was a crow?”

“Yes,” says Robert. “And his name was Ben.” He clenches his jaw, drawing the same conclusion. “He would have a motive.”