Chapter 12 #2
“Kurt, my uncle,” he says, exhaling a stream of smoke.
“Been more like a dad since mine was murdered fifteen years ago. Not that he had any business raising kids, but I was fifteen, so I was raised enough, and I turned out just fine.” He stops near the middle of the warehouse.
“But he helped me find and kill the guy who murdered my father, so he figured out the role eventually.”
I turn to meet his eyes, searching for the joke. But it isn’t there. He’s dead serious.
The haze of smoke from his cigarette curls around his face, catching the light in slow-moving ribbons that shift like shadow. His dark eyes stay locked on mine as my pulse pounds louder in my ears, part of me bracing for the instinct to run.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, I find myself staring into the black of his eyes, drawn deeper to all the jagged, dangerous edges of him.
And suddenly, I’m painfully aware of my own body.
My heart thumps sharply in my chest, almost like it’s matching the busy rhythm of this place, and the darkness surrounding us sinks into me through the cracks I’ve been trying to keep closed.
It feels... good. And real.
Smoke curls from his lips as he looks at me, and his words from earlier echo in my head.
I need to open you up.
“So…” I say, tearing my gaze from his and letting it slide towards the line of gleaming cars. “You steal these?”
Alder chuckles darkly. “Steal is such an ugly word.”
I glance back at him and lift an eyebrow. Murder is fine, but steal is ugly?
“We rehome,” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips.
A smile pulls at the corner of my own lips, and without realizing it, I take a deep breath in, letting the smoke from his cigarette burn through me. And something odd settles in my chest with it.
Something almost like… comfort.
I know I come from a very different world than this.
A world of academia, where everything’s dictated by schedules and structure, endless meetings, performative politeness, and people too careful to say what they mean.
Everything is perfectly buttoned up and filed neatly under professionalism and civility.
But here in Alder’s world… It’s wild, unapologetic, dangerous, and honest.
He takes what he wants, never asks for permission… and he lives.
I think that’s why he brought me here.
“Alder Roy?”
We both turn to see a man standing before us, with one of the Basin Kings behind him like a menacing shadow.
The man is dressed in a sleek suit with not a hair out of place, but looks like he’s about to shit himself as his fingers twitch and he looks at Alder with wide eyes.
The King behind him gives Alder an exasperated look, like he’s already bothered by this guy.
Alder eyes the twitchy man. “What?”
“I’m a buyer for A.J. Vince. He bought from you before…” he says, trying to stand up a little taller, though it does nothing for his confidence. “He’s currently in Spain and sent me here to bid for him.”
Alder takes one last drag of his cigarette, the end flaring orange as he stares the man down. The buyer shifts his weight like he’s waiting for the floor to open him up and swallow him whole.
“You want my permission to buy here?” Alder asks as he drops the cigarette and grinds it out under his boot.
The guy nods, but the King behind him gives him a sharp nudge. “Yes,” he blurts.
Alder looks him over once more. “What’s your favourite tree?”
The buyer’s brows draw together. “Uh…” His eyes shift around the room as if he can find a tree in this warehouse. “Maple?”
The King releases a heavy sigh, and Alder’s face immediately hardens.
“Get out,” Alder says in a low voice.
“What?” the guy asks, glancing at me like I might have the answer.
But I’m just as confused.
I glance at Alder, but he suddenly moves forward to grab the man, twists his arm behind him, and yanks him close until his mouth is right at his ear.
“I said out,” he growls, then shoves him towards the door.
The King who escorted him over here grabs him by the arm and hauls him towards the door, rolling his eyes at Alder on the way.
“Fucking maple,” Alder mutters, adjusting his cut and dragging a hand through his hair. “Like fuck he or Vince will ever see an auction again.”
I watch him as he seems to gather himself, and I try to make sense of what just happened. Of everything that has happened here tonight so far, with Boot at the door, and some kind of stiff exchange with Kurt, a tree rattled him?
But his name is a tree, and he clearly fucking loves them, so maybe that tracks. He’s just the right kind of unhinged for that to make some sort of sense.
A burst of static suddenly crackles through the air, and the crowd quiets as a man steps in front of one of the cars with a microphone in hand.
“2019 Ferrari 488 Spider. Custom import from a collector south of the border in Portland, Maine. Fully wiped, low mileage, engine tight, and transmission clean. Heat’s off.”
Hands lift into the air, and numbers start flying. There’s no introduction or welcome speech. Everyone just gets right to business, sliding effortlessly into their roles.
“Got that one six months ago,” Alder says beside me, sliding another cigarette between his lips and lighting it.
“Tracked the guy for three weeks before we could take it. Fucker launched an investigation afterwards which made its way across the border, so we had to store it until the heat died down.”
The bidding moves fast, with subtle nods, raised fingers, and men in suits murmuring into phones and calling out bids.
It moves quickly, until it’s just two bidders pushing each other higher, neither willing to blink.
I don’t even know where to look as the auctioneer points between them, rattling off their competing bids, which is now over $250,000.
“Why are you telling me this?” I turn to look at Alder as he watches the bidding war unfold with smoke spilling from his lips. “You don’t know me, and what I could do with this.”
For all he knows, I could walk out of here and take this whole thing down.
His gaze slides to me, and a slow smile forms on his lips as he lifts a hand and wraps it around the back of my neck. My chin lifts automatically, and my heart thumps harder, as electricity seems to spread through my chest.
Then he leans in and brings his mouth to mine, pushing his tongue past my lips.
His kiss is demanding and heated, leaving me no other option than to take him in, even though it’s exactly what I want.
I taste the smoke on his tongue as my hand finds his side, my fingers brushing over the holster beneath his cut.
The rev of an engine sounds loudly through the warehouse, sending a spike of adrenaline coursing through me.
It’s something I haven’t felt in years… the rush of want, need, danger, and freedom.
It drives me to lean in and take more, and to lose myself in everything he’s offering.
Until he pulls back and lifts his cigarette to his lips. “That’s why.”
And I just stare back at him, unable to respond.
Then he turns back to the auction, like nothing happened. So I do the same. And I let the chaos feed this new sensation inside me.
Fights break out over bids, engines roar to life, and rich men try to outdo one another with large numbers barked like threats.
And through it all, Alder watches with a casual authority, simply nodding to his men to break up scuffles, escort buyers to pay, and remove anyone who doesn’t belong.
This is more than business. This whole thing is about power, presence, and keeping your neck above water in a game where everyone’s watching for weakness.
And I can’t get enough.
“2022 Bentley Continental GT Speed,” the auctioneer says as he moves to the next car in the line-up. “Brought in from a private estate in Connecticut. Twin-turbo W12 engine, 650 horsepower. Black exterior, oxblood leather interior. Minimal mileage. Cleaned, cleared, and polished.”
A man in front of us tentatively raises his hand in a bid, and I notice it’s the guy Alder said he’d keep an eye on. Danny. I hadn’t even realized he’d been watching him this whole time.
The bidding continues, quickly rising to $190,000 as Danny cautiously raises his hand every now and then, like he’s not sure he should even be doing this. And every time he bids, it’s slower and less certain.
“For $200,000,” the auctioneer calls, pointing toward a bidder near the front. “Going once, going—”
Suddenly, Alder steps forward and draws his gun.
I don’t even have time to process what’s happening before he’s standing beside Danny, pressing the gun to the side of his head.
And no one even bats an eye. They just watch and wait.
“Your family fucking owns this province,” Alder says in a cool, deadly tone. “You can do so much fucking better than that.”
The auctioneer folds his hands in front of him as he stands beside the Bentley, patiently watching like he’s waiting out a boring delay.
Danny swallows and raises a shaky hand. “Two-ten.”
But Alder presses the gun harder against his temple, and his glare hardens.
Danny lets out a breath. “Two-twenty.”
The auctioneer glances toward the front, then back at Danny with a nod. “Sold. For two hundred and twenty thousand.”
Alder lowers the gun and slips it back into his cut, then grabs Danny by the lapel and shoves him towards a side table. “Pay.”
One of the Basin Kings falls into step beside Danny, not-so-gently herding him towards the table.
As Alder turns back to me, something across the room catches his attention, and somehow his expression darkens even more.
I follow his gaze to find a man watching him from the far side of the warehouse. He’s wearing a cut, but it’s not the Basin Kings. He just stares at Alder for a moment, his mouth curled into a slow, knowing smile. Then he dips his head in a nod and turns, vanishing into the shadows beyond the door.
Alder’s eyes flick to Kurt, who’s watching too. Kurt shakes his head and exhales as tension passes between them, and I’m not sure what it is… but it feels heavy.
When Alder’s eyes return to me, the darkness swirling inside them zeroes in on me, like it’s just decided what it needs. Like I’ve just become a part of it.
And I feel it in every part of me. The threat, control, power, and everything he’s capable of.
And I like it.
“I think we’ve seen enough here, don’t you?” Alder asks, stepping in closer.
I lift an eyebrow, glancing at the line of cars still waiting their turn. “You don’t need to be here?”
“No, baby,” he says, slipping a hand under the hem of my shirt and curling his fingers into my belt. “Our cars are sold. The floor’s open to others now. My crew can handle it from here.”
An engine rumbles, and a fight breaks out behind us, but Alder’s eyes stay fixed on mine.
So I simply nod. “Let’s go then.”