Page 120 of Outcast’s Vow

“Are you more loyal to me, or to Baptiste?”

“What are you doing about it, Father?”

“Do you think Baptiste is more loyal to you or the Order, Sylvie?”

I press on, trying to ignore Father’s impossible probing.

“What are you doing about the Masked Killer? Answer me this one question, Supreme Elder.”

My father’s lips tighten. A rare display of vulnerability.

“We’re looking into it.”

There is definitely a slip of something in both his look and his voice. A scramble. A dark doubt creeping in. I’m not mistaken in hearing it. This is the first time in a long time I’ve heard him speak without full one-hundred-percent Supreme Elder confidence.

I lift my chin.

“I’m worried about you, Father.”

Father raises his martini glass to his lips and scoffs, his confidence returned.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, daughter.”

I see the lie in my father’s eyes.

Despite everything... despite our disagreements and our volatility and his desire for control... I truly am worried about him.

And today hasn’t quenched that. Not one iota.

45

BAPTISTE

Cromwell Auclair is waiting for me at the airport as my private jet touches down on the runway, wheels burning hot. I spot the Castaways Elder from my seat, waiting there by the gate in his expensive black coat and with three stoic bodyguards behind him. It’s a surprise that he’s here. And I’ve got a feeling it isn’t a good one.

I take a deep breath and straighten my tie.

I descend from my jet, each step feeling like another step toward the hangman’s scaffold. Cromwell, now standing at the foot of the stairs, shakes my hand once my feet touch American soil.

“Congratulations on a task completed,” he coos warmly. “You’ve performed well, Mr. Tremblay.”

“Sure,” I reply, “but did I get much say in the matter?”

“One bad guy dealt with. Isn’t that enough, Baptiste?”

“Yes, he was an abuser who needed justice, but there are far bigger things happening here at home for me to focus on,” I say. “I didn’t need to waste precious days in Europe.”

Cromwell raises an eyebrow.

“You’re displeased about something?”

He’s being provocative. He basically half-raised me, so he knows me well.

“What is really going on, sir?” I ask in a rumble. “There’s no sense of urgency about what’s happened. What about Alwin? What’s happening there? What about the Masked Killer?”

Cromwell pats me on the shoulder with a gloved hand.

“It’s being handled, Baptiste.”