A slight chill moves over my skin. I would not want to be on the receiving end of the wrath of Hayes Sullivan. I look away, out the window, watching the people gather around the railing of the Thames. It’s past ten at night, and the city is starting to come alive.
“For so long, I thought it was random. Victoria’s murder, I mean. I grieved, and I made my peace. And then when I figured out the truth thanks to my connections…” he trails off, his hand on his jaw as he gazes across the expansive room. “I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wasn’t sure I could play the part and pretend.” He looks over at me, his light blue eyes piercing into mine, hatred written all over his face as his lips curl back. “Every second of being a part of that godforsaken group of animals will be worth it when we take them down. For her. For Victoria.” He pauses. “I didn’t even recognize her at the morgue.”
I look at the carpet, taking in every word. I still remember confessing to him about Evelyn—about the things my father had done. He’d told me we weren’t so different, and then he invited me to a Brotherhood meeting with him. I thought it was stupid at first, but I was still lost, still a wanderer, still longing for a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. I never asked how he found out about Blackfriars, though I know he has connections to MI6. I definitely never asked about why he hated the Brotherhood so much—until I found out what happens at The Offering. Until I realized how they’d brutally murdered someone precious to him.Wrong place. Wrong time.He’d joined to enact revenge.
We agreed the only way forward would be to take them all down. Not just our branch, which would’ve been easy.
But every single one of them.
We’d spent years going after the small guys—the members who took it upon themselves to rape and pillage. We befriended other Directors, getting to know them and the sick kinds of recreational activities they got up to in their free time. The Offering happens once a year, and it’s the only time any of them would admit to murder, would use the Brotherhood for something as awful as taking a human life. We had to wait—had to bid our time, playing the part, waiting for the next opportunity.
Which just so happens to be next weekend—where all of The Directors will be co-mingling in one city.
And this time, we get to take them down from top to bottom, knocking the legs out from underneath them.
I inhale a deep, steady breath. “I took the blood oath with Evelyn,” I say quickly, unsure of how he’ll react. He’s a little psycho and a lot unhinged, and I worry he might explode.
He nods. “I figured. Hoes over bros,” he says, dismissing me.
I sit up straighter. “It’s not like that. I need her help next weekend.”
Hayes leans forward, the neck of his loose shirt hanging down. “So, you’re going to put her in the line of fire? The girl you haven’t stopped talking about since the day I met you?” He looks at me with repugnance, and I know what he’s thinking.
He would never have put his wife in danger like that.
“If you knew her at all, you would know why I did it.”
He shakes his head. “Might as well take her friend too. Scare her a little bit.” He smirks, glancing at me. “I think she likes to be scared.”
I smile. “Leave Zoey alone,” I command, sipping my drink.
Hayes looks at the carpet, grinning. “That’s what people keep telling me.” Suddenly he jumps up. “I should go. Portfolio review tomorrow. You better be there early, or I’ll fire you.”
I stand up to walk him out, and he gives me a handshake while pulling me into a one-armed hug. I’d forgotten about the early meeting at the bank, and I internally groan.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I like being friends with the boss.”
Hayes chuckles, throwing his coat on. “You’d be lost without me.”
He turns to go, and I lock the door behind him when he leaves, staring at it for a second.
I’ve never dug too deep into Hayes’s extracurricular activities, yet I will never understand how the son of a prominent Ringvereine member—the infamous, German gang—started working at HSBC.
Sauntering over to my phone, I tap Evelyn’s location dot. I promised myself that I wouldn’t constantly check, but that’s been ineffectual. She’s in her Monday evening class. I quickly shoot a text to my driver, giving him the address of the building so that she doesn’t have to walk home alone in the dark.
Once I’m back at my desk, I chew on the same pen, looking around at the loft and wondering what it would be like to bring Evelyn here. It’s large—over two-thousand square feet, which is almost unheard of in this part of London. Tall ceilings, two panels of windows, and filled with modern furniture. The walls are made up of dark, red brick, and the floor is smooth concrete. I’ve collected some nice art over the years, and I’m proud of how it’s all turned out. I ignore the empty longing that follows me around constantly.
There is only one thing that is home, and it’s not a place.
I exhale, dropping the pen and leaning back in my chair.
All this time, I never stopped loving her.
All this time, I tried to give her space.
I sensed her warming up to me in Paris, and every part of me fucking loved that—the smile, the laugh, the way her eyes would watch me intently, like she was studying me, trying to decode exactly what she saw.
Sizing me up.
