The estate gates close behind us with a reassuring clang of metal. Our security team meets us at the entrance, faces grim as they take in our disheveled suits, the blood on my sleeve.
"Get him to the basement," I order as Flint and Blaise haul our captive from the trunk. "No one speaks to him but me."
The man spits blood at my feet. "You're all dead men walking. Hampton has friends you don't even know about."
I grab him by the throat, squeezing just enough to make his eyes bulge. "Hampton has nothing but time to think about his mistakes. Soon, you'll have plenty of that too."
We drag him through the service entrance, avoiding the main areas where household members might see, especially Keira. The last thing I need is her getting involved or warning whoever sent these men.
Hampton and Lana are being held in more comfortable conditions than what awaits this man.
"Secure him," I tell Blaise. "I want to know who sent him, who else is involved, and what they know about our operations."
Blaise nods, already preparing the necessary tools.
Ash crosses his arms as he watches Blaise toss our new prisoner in a room. "And if Keira is involved?"
"Then she'll learn exactly what happens to people who betray me. Twice." I turn to leave. “I’m getting my arm bandaged andchanging my suit. I’ll be back to talk to him. I want to talk to Hampton first, though.”
Fifteen minutes later, I return to the basement. I flex my bandaged arm, the wound a reminder of how close we came to losing everything today. Again.
"They're ready for you," Blaise says, appearing at my side like a shadow.
I nod, steeling myself for what comes next. The heavy door creaks open to reveal Hampton and Lana Kean huddled together on a cot in their cell. They've been given basic comforts, clean clothes, decent food, even books, more than they deserve after what they did to my family.
"You look terrible," Hampton says, a ghost of his usual arrogance in his voice.
"Your men failed," I reply coldly. "Just like you."
Lana shrinks back, but Hampton maintains his defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I smile without warmth. "Then you won't mind watching what happens to them."
With a nod to my guards, the door to the adjacent room opens. Our captured attacker is secured to a chair, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side. In my absence, it appears my brothers had to enact some discipline as new bright red blood drips on his face.
Two more bodies lie on the floor, covered with sheets. I pull back the fabric to reveal Carson's lifeless face, a bullet hole centered perfectly between his eyes.
"Recognize your head of security?" I ask Hampton.
The color drains from his face. "Carson was supposed to be in Miami."
"He was supposed to kill me and my brothers. Instead, he's dead. Along with his men."
I move to stand before our living captive, drawing my knife. The polished blade catches the light as I turn it slowly.
"I want you both to watch carefully," I tell the Keans. "Because this is what happens to anyone who thinks they can take what belongs to me."
The man in the chair struggles against his restraints. It’s the first sign of fear from him since he barged into my office thinking he could kill me and my brothers. "Mr. Kean, don't let him?—"
I press the knife against his throat, silencing him. "You have one chance to tell me who else is involved. One chance to make this quick."
Fear finally breaks through his bravado. "There are others besides Mr. Kean. Powerful people who don't want the Ifrinns back in control."
"Names," I demand, increasing the pressure.
"I can't—they'll kill my family."
I lean closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I'll kill them myself if you don't start talking. Right after I finish with you."
