Page 54 of Empress of Ruin
“Oh?” Killian arches an eyebrow. “You’re stubborn. You’re smart. You clawed your way out of a difficult youth and made something of yourself.” He pauses there, letting that statement land. “You’re ambitious. You’re vengeful.”
“I’m not vengeful!”I interrupt.
“Stop lying to yourself. If you weren’t vengeful, you wouldn’t have published the expose. If you weren’t vengeful, you wouldn’t have looked satisfied when I hinted to my plans with the man who hurt you.” He leans forward. “Would you like to know what I’m going to do to him?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He smiles. “I’m going to destroy him slowly. I already looked into him—I have a report detailing his entire life sitting on my laptop. Did you know that his wife has been to the ER 12 times in the last two years? Each time, the cited reason was some version offalling down the stairs. A month ago, her daughter was also brought in with a broken arm. The reason there was she fell on the playground at school.” His face hardens. “School was out for holiday that week.”
My stomach drops, and nausea tickles my esophagus.
“His wife filed for a divorce and moved out that day. She’s living in low-income housing with her daughter and baby boy. They’re struggling to get by—she’s a nurse. The first thing that’s going to happen with the cop is that all of the money will disappear from his bank account and miraculously get deposited into hers. Same thing with the trust fund his parents left him. She won’t be set for life, but certainly for a few years—enough time for her to get fully back on her feet.” He trails his thumb across my jaw. “The cop’s already been fired. Tomorrow, an investigation will be opened into him. There have been a couple buried complaints against him for unnecessary aggression, wrongful arrest, misconduct. Those complaints will all get brought into daylight. He’ll never work anywhere again.” He presses his finger to my lips, watching me closely. “Without income, he’ll lose his apartment and be left to the streets or one of the horrific homeless shelters in this city. Now, I don’t trust someone with his kind of history to roam the streets. Do you?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Good.” He smiles. “So, after he’s had just enough time to despair, he’ll run into a littleaccident. It’ll be staged as a fight between homeless men over food, or something of the sort. His death will be slow and violent. His family will, eventually, forget about him. His wife will have the resources to seek help for the trauma she and her daughter endured at his hands.” His features harden. “I could’ve made it worse, believe me. I could’ve strung him up, cut his fingers off, and skinned him alive.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
His smile returns. “Sweet Lyra. Whatever do you think happened to the mugger who hurt you?”
I never asked. I never wanted to know. Because what he’s describing is the unthinkable.
Has Killian already tortured a man to death for harming me?
And why infuck’sname does that send a secret… thrill through me?
“Because we’re cut from the same cloth,” Killian says, reading my mind. “Now.” He kisses my forehead. “We’re going to take a very careful bath, and set you up in bed. You arenotgoing to try to run away from me again—the next time,I’llbe the one ensuring you lack the ability to do so for the foreseeable future.”
I shrink about. “Are you threatening to break my ankle?”
Killian actually looks offended. “No,” he says, with enough indignance that I’m inclined to believe him. “What I’ll do is lock you in a cage. Or leave you tied to my bed whenever I’m not around.Or, construct that home we discussed—the one I’ll put you in if your ever give me reason to believe you’ll harm our child.” He squeezes my hip. “I think we’ve had quite a long day. Let’s wash up and get to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Killian
While Lyra recovers, I get to work looking into Silas’s newfound connections with The Eyes. I consult Griffin, who tells me that the only way to get my review out of The Eyes’ committee of most senior members, where it’s been under review formonths,is to request a tribunal and plead my case.
While The Eyes have largely modernized, they have certain protocols that are ridiculously archaic. They’re an organization with roots that go back to the establishment of this country, but having to request a fuckingtribunalso I can kill someone who’s actively threatening to kill both me and my fiancée? Ridiculous.
Then, there’s the issue of Carter, who’s still playing hardball. Theremightbe a way to bring him into The Eyes and eliminate Silas all at once, but it’ll be a reach.
Safe in the knowledge that Lyra won’t be attempting escape any time soon—I’ve given her plenty to think about—I pull long nights at the office, leaving home early and returning late. It almost seems like the distance has a positive effect, because Lyra starts asking me about my day and actuallylisteningwhen I speak to her. Or, maybe it’s her realization that we truly are in this together. In any case, I appreciate the change of pace.
She does quite well with her crutches, though I take it upon myself to carry her whenever I’m home. Which, unfortunately, is not as often as I’d like. After about two weeks, she ditches the crutches and starts hesitantly limping around. I send a physical therapist to work with her every day, and she improves spectacularly.
I’m not sure if I’m more grateful for her newfound health or worried that she’s mobile again, therefore she can attempt another escape anytime.
Griffin graciously invites me to his home for dinner with his wife on a Friday evening. Lyra’s not yet well enough to be walking up and around on her own, so she has to decline the invitation.
I take the invitation to either to be an olive branch of sorts—perhaps he wants to work more closely together, or perhaps he’s simply luring me out to betray me. Either way, it’ll be good to know.
After a wonderful dinner during which his wife demonstrates an admirable aptitude for small talk and pleasantness, he brings me to his office for a nightcap. The wood-paneled study boasts of a century-old refurbished desk and floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the stunning night garden of his estate.
“Silas is gaining allies,” he tells me as soon as he’s poured both of us scotch and we’ve taken seats on opposite sides of his desk. “Junior members without much sway, but still. He’s actively working on recruiting more.”
“Which means he plans to make a move on me.” I nod slowly, trying to consider exactly what his next move is. He’ll call for my head, obviously, but the question ishow. Despite his newfound alliances, I’m still a valuable member of The Eyes. And I have no successor as of yet; if they kill me, it’ll throw the pharmaceutical industry into a tailspin. Recovery will take years, if not decades.
