Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Our senior members ought to know better than losing their heads and going on bloodthirsty sprees!” Ryan pipes up, impassioned. He’s a stout man, not particularly attractive, and sounds rather like he’s reading from a script.
“Who among this panel has actually experienced what it is to lose a child?” Griffin queries pleasantly.
“I’d wager rather few of you. Take it from someone who has experienced such loss; the accompanying madness is all but assured, and is righteous in nature.
Silas’s blow to Lyra caused unthinkable consequences—
“There’s no proof that Silas’s actions caused anything. She could’ve had a condition that would’ve caused miscarriage in any case,” Ryan volleys back.
Being spoken of as if I’m not here, while rows upon rows of men and women cast me curious glances from the gallery, is surreal—and the calm that I felt walking in here fades. This really might be it.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Spencer speaks again, tilting his head from side to side. “Killian and Silas—forgive me for stripping you of your Eyes honorifics for the time being—do you have anything more to add to your cases? I believe we’ve had enough debate and it’s time to vote.”
The outcome of the vote is unclear. Raegan and Griffin are sure to vote with Killian, Vladimir and Ryan will vote with Silas, but Spencer hasn’t given indication either way.
“No,” Silas says simply. “I trust you’ll do the right thing and put this wild, begging dog down. His bitch, too.”
Killian’s jaw twitches, but he says nothing until Spencer poses the same question to him.
“Some weeks ago an assassin sent by someone I suspect to be a member of the Eyes set off a bomb in my workplace lobby, then attempted to slit my throat.” He pulls his shirt aside, exposing the scar that still makes my heart thud each time I see it.
“This is my souvenir. The attempt is extremely well documented. While I do not yet have concrete proof, I know the assassin was sent by proxy through a Russian oligarch. I have many reasons to suspect it was either a judge or someone else with interests in this case that sent him. I’d like to request a few more days to investigate from the court—”
“Absolutely not,” Vladimir snaps. “The time for waiting has passed, boy. You won’t delay your fate any further. We’ve all had near-misses with assassins—that’s the price of power. Accusing someone on this panel is obscene. No, we will vote now, and hopefully rid ourselves of your ilk.”
“Is there something wrong with self-made men?” Spencer queries mildly.
“Everything,” Vladimir hisses.
“Hmm.” Spencer turns to look at me, then Killian. “Do you have any proof in connection with this assassination attempt that might aid your case?”
It almost sounds as though he’s hoping the answer is yes.
As if he wasn’t the one to send the assassin, and he wants to vote in Killian’s favor, but can’t as things stand now—because he believes Killian broke the rules and is therefore in the wrong.
Could he be innocent? I suppose many corrupt individuals could have connections with oligarchs.
When Killian shakes his head, I realize with a sinking feeling that I’ll probably never find out. Spencer shoots him an almost apologetic look, lips flat, and nods. “Let’s vote.”
“All in favor of granting Silas’s petition and ridding this word of that feral dog,” Vladimir says, far too hopefully.
Three hands slowly begin to rise in the air—Vladimir, Ryan, Spencer. My knees buckle with a wave of fear. Raegan looks down, shaking her head sadly. Silas shoots me a victorious look.
“He’s a slippery little fuck, I’ll give him that,” Vladimir’s voice echoes out, only it doesn’t come from the man.
It comes from a recording device that Carter’s holding up.
“His security is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
I’ve sent men after him three times over the last six months, and they never ever get close.
We’ll just have to keep trying until something works. ”
Is he talking about Killian in this recording? What the fuck did Carter manage to dig up?
“Spencer’s always had the best security of all of us.
” Now it’s Ryan’s voice that rings out, and holy fuck, they aren’t talking about trying to kill Silas—they’re talking about trying to kill Spencer.
Even worse, all things considered. Surely an offense punishable by death. A quiet laugh bubbles up my throat.
“We’ll find a way to get rid of him eventually.
The more immediate threat is Killian and his little whore.
They both need to go.” Ladies and gentlemen, we have a jackpot, because it’s fucking Silas who says that part.
My god… The three of them are fucked. “Alekseii’s man chose a knife instead of a gun, apparently.
Gave Killian a nasty scar but couldn’t finish the job before security gunned him down. I want to send another.”
“You need patience,” Vladimir interjects.
I look at the man himself, who’s frozen in his spot, pale, looking like he’s about to throw up—not unlike Silas or Ryan.
“The tribunal will take care of him, I assure you. He broke the rules, which guarantees Spencer will vote against him. Raegan and Griffin aren’t enough.
Be patient, my friend. Your time will come. ”
“Sorry about that,” Carter says, lowering the recording device.
“Couldn’t get this fucking thing to turn on earlier.
” The wink he shoots me tells me that’s a lie, and he just wanted to wait to the last minute to make his save.
I don’t even care; I’m so relieved I could cry.
“That’s the shitty part about using outdated recording material, but hey, you can’t call this thing AI.
It’s fifty fucking years old—AI isn’t capable of replicating it.
” He clears his throat and runs a hand down his tie.
“Interestingly, it sounds like this whole fucking thing was rigged from the start. Vlad, Ryan, Silas—in the future, when you have secret meetings, I’d avoid having them in hotels owned by me.
You never know what recording devices might be too old to get found by your usual bug-sweep. ”
“It’s—it’s fake—” Vladimir sputters.
“No, it is not.” Spencer’s jaw twitches. “I know that device. I know the man who invented it. The recordings can’t be tampered with once made.” Spencer slowly turns to face Vladimir. “You have broken a number of rules, haven’t you, old friend?”
A shaking Vladimir launches himself out of his seat, running towards the nearest exit, only to stop when a loud bang echoes through the cave. He jerks back as a bullet lands neatly between his eyes, then drops to the ground, dead.
“Fucking hate runners,” Carter says, twirling the gun he was somehow allowed to keep on himself—or, more likely, snuck in—in his hands. “No fun when they run instead of fighting.”
“Well, that does rather simplify things, doesn’t it?” Spencer pulls out his own gun, and fires off two shots. One for Silas, one for Ryan. Both men drop; each thud of a body hitting the floor is a massive weight off my shoulders.
“Now that a panel of five has turned into a panel of three, and it’s rather obvious that all three are in your favor, I think a vote can be avoided.
” Spencer nods at Killian, who’s watching with a stoic expression, but I see the emotions in his eyes.
Relief. Shock. A hint of amusement. Reluctant gratitude as he looks at Carter…
and so much love when he meets my eyes. The tears I’ve been holding back spill over.
We’re alive—our enemies are dead. Now, it’s just Killian and me.
“Keep your wits about you. Don’t hurt our people for any reason—even love.
And, do try to stay out of trouble for a while.
This has been exhausting.” He slaps the table and stands.
“Court adjourned. Guards—we require some cleanup.”
And just like that, it’s over. We’re free.