Chapter 20
It’s quiet in the room for several seconds after the call ends, though the sound of Irina’s sobs seem to still echo in the room.
I stare at Memnon in wonder, even as the tension ratchets up between him and Cole. The man almost sheepishly takes his phone back, tucking it away again.
He then eyes Memnon, rubbing his chest absently, still looking like he did body shots with Death.
“Thank you,” he finally says, a myriad of emotions playing out on his face.
The least of them is gratitude. I mean, if someone threatened me, called me a coward, then killed me (albeit briefly), I might not be overwhelmed with gratitude either.
Still, Cole was so desperate for his life mere minutes ago, but now that he has essentially gotten what he wanted, it seems to have left a bad taste in his mouth.
For my part, my eyes keep returning to Memnon, and I cannot help but stare wondrously at him as he rises from the ground.
He broke a bond made unto death. All for a bonded woman he knew nothing about.
This world is still ours to rule and shape however we see fit. Help me shape it into something that pleases you.
This is what Memnon had meant. He’s trying to right Leonard Fortuna’s wrongs.
Cole begins to get up, but Memnon presses a foot to his chest. “We’re not done, Kincaide.”
The man tenses on the ground as he stares up at Memnon. Does he see the warlord in Memnon’s eyes? The man who has dethroned kings and massacred entire legions of men?
Based on the way his sickly pallor pales further beneath that fake tan, I think he must.
“Now, you’re going to tell me all about these associates,” Memnon commands.
I can see the whites of Kincaide’s eyes when he nods. “I’ll tell you everything,” he says, his voice weak with fatigue. “Just let me up.”
Memnon removes his foot from the man’s chest. This time, Cole gets up slower, eyeing my soul mate warily. Kincaide sways a little as he stands but plays it off as though he were simply straightening his suit.
“Zachary Greer and Samuel Zhang are the two I overheard speaking on this when I saw them last,” he says a little breathlessly.
Memnon nods. “I appreciate your honesty, but I don’t need your words. Just your thoughts.” He steps in then.
“Seriously, what the fuck—?” Cole’s voice slides away as Memnon’s power takes root. His eyes roll up and his eyelids flutter as Memnon raids the man’s mind.
It takes little more than a minute, the room deathly silent the whole time.
Abruptly, the sorcerer releases Kincaide, who stumbles, then falls to the ground.
“That’ll be all,” Memnon says, dismissing him. “Nice doing business with you.”
For a split second, Kincaide appears confused, then his cheeks turn ruddy again.
And I really do understand his anger. First he was mocked by Memnon, then he was killed by the dude, and finally he was mindfucked by him.
Kincaide Cole is having a rough morning, to say the least. I’d feel bad for the guy except he enslaved a young woman for the better part of a year. So honestly? Fuck the dude.
“Who in the seven devils do you think you are?” Kincaide asks as Memnon returns to his desk.
The corner of Memnon’s mouth curves into an amused smile, but when Kincaide’s attention swings to me, the expression falls away entirely.
“Stare at my wife any longer, and I will rip your eyes from their sockets and feed them to you.”
Kincaide’s head snaps back to Memnon.
“You were asking me who I am, Kincaide,” the sorcerer says conversationally. “I’m a monster who delights in killing other monsters. I have done it before, and I will do it again.
“So get out of my office and don’t return.”
Kincaide hesitates a moment longer, then thinks better about lingering. Without giving me so much as another glance, he leaves the room.
Once the door clicks shut behind him, Memnon picks up the phone.
“Matthew, Kincaide confessed to trafficking the woman in the ledger. He’s coming down now. You know what to do.” He hangs up the phone, then looks at me.
I exhale loudly. I feel like I need to change my pants after that meeting.
“What’s going to happen to that guy?” I ask.
“The authorities are going to be waiting for him when he gets off the elevator. They’ll then charge Mr. Cole with the appropriate crimes, and he’ll be put away.” He says it with the sort of certainty of a man who has rigged the game in his favor, which I’m sure he has.
My lips part, and I stare at Memnon wondrously.
After a moment, I regain my composure and walk back to the desk.
My eyes never leave Memnon’s as I begin to speak. “The morning of our wedding, Kane called me away—”
My husband’s eyes narrow at the mention of the shifter who has been not-so-secretly trying to pursue me.
I press on anyway. “He told me that you had taken over the Fortunas’ empire. And I’ll be honest, when I heard that, I assumed the worst.”
“Wise of you to think the worst. I am both flattered and annoyed that you would do so.”
“But…” I round the table to both get closer to Memnon and to look at the ledger.
My fingers skim the bottom edge of its leather cover before I open it and gaze at the sickening list of names and bonds scribbled down the rows of each page.
A few of them are now crossed off—the bonds Memnon has already broken.
“You’ve been freeing the trafficked supernaturals.”
He doesn’t respond to that.
I search his face. “I didn’t ask you to do this.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Oh, Memnon’s definitely getting laid later.
The sorcerer’s gaze heats, and I’m pretty sure he overheard that stray thought.
“Please be careful,” I say. Cole’s warning to Memnon about those who were plotting against him still lingers in my mind.
He nods, though I notice that in doing so, he’s sidestepped any vows to be careful. Slippery man.
“Would you like to know what Cole heard about those scheming against me?”
“Of course,” I say.
“There was a third individual who was involved, maybe even someone these men answered to.”
I search his gaze. “That sounds like—”
“Like the pyramid scheme the Fortunas were using?”
I nod, my brow furrowing. “There still is one Fortuna out there.” Juliana’s brother, Leonard. “Do you think he’s behind this?”
Memnon shakes his head, puzzled. “I don’t know, but I do think I need to now have a meeting with both Zachary Greer and Samuel Zhang.”
My eyes drift back down to the ledger, landing on the column with the title of each trafficked supernatural.
Witch, witch, mage, witch, witch, witch, witch, lycanthrope, witch, witch, witch, witch, witch, witch, demon.
The last one is written in red. A shiver courses down my back.
I notice again how several of the rows have been crossed out.
“They don’t all live,” I say, my gaze flicking back to Memnon’s, my unspoken question hanging in the air between us.
Why?
“If they attack me or I see something in their minds that angers me,” Memnon says, “I don’t let them live. But sometimes even those whose lives I intend to spare don’t always make it. Not all hearts restart.”
I swallow as I stare at Memnon and hear his apathy.
He nods at me, presumably eavesdropping on my thoughts.
“This world,” he continues, “even the magical parts of it, is not so different from our old one,” he says softly. “It’s still largely run by wicked men who enjoy exerting power and pain on others. I don’t mind their deaths. Some I even relish.
“I am every bit a monster, est amage,” he says. “And if I were less of one, I would feel sorry that I am yours.”
I run my fingers over the names. “Well,” I say. “I wouldn’t.” My eyes lift to him. “Monster or not, I am glad you’re mine.”