Chapter Twenty-Five #3
The Warden rakes fingers through his hair, seemingly flustered again. The seesaw of his emotions is bringing on this palpable manic vibration. Like an earthquake rumbling the foundation beneath our feet.
“I grow weary, Trevel,” he murmurs. He actually flinches when his phone chimes on his desk. “I’m becoming so very tired of people’s inability to follow orders. You all seem to forget that on this fucking island, I am the goddamn King .”
Growling, he’s teeming with visible rage as he leans over me, hands gripping the armrests of my chair. I’m just gawking up at him while he seethes in my face, “Do I need to slaughter every last one of you to make my point?” His voice is barely audible, minty breath brushing my face.
He’s unhinged. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something drastic right now. Like kill me…
My eyes dart to Yari, who’s just sitting there, buried in his phone again. But his gaze lifts in between typing to watch his boss threatening everyone— even him, theoretically —like it’s no big deal.
I won’t pretend to understand what kinds of things are happening behind the scenes, but I know that something happened between the Warden and Officer Chevelle.
A disruption in the flow, some major rift that caused The Ivory to bring in his new team of guards.
And I’m beginning to think flitting around in my own little world, obsessing over Byron and stewing in my hatred for Dr. Love won’t be a sustainable way of life for much longer.
“Dr. Love has been meeting with Officer Chevelle,” I blurt out. “I’ve seen it a few times… Velle and his partners having hushed conversations with Lemuel in private.”
The Warden doesn’t look particularly shocked by this. But he seems mildly placated by my contribution to his cause.
“And have you heard anything?” he asks quietly. “From these conversations…?”
I gulp. “No… But I’m sure Felix Darcey has.”
The Ivory’s lips slope into a tiny, satisfied grin that is fully terrifying.
He taps me on the cheek, straightening up.
“Good boy, Trevel. I believe your loyalty will keep you protected. Just make sure our shadow prince is on the same page, hm? We can’t have him running back into the arms of certain lying arsonists, now can we? ”
Shivering, I’m chewing the inside of my cheek to keep myself in check.
Byron is mine, goddamnit.
He will not be leaving me for anyone , especially not that selfish slag, Warren Xavier.
Over my dead body.
While I’m freaking out inside, Manuel Blanco’s head lolls in Yari’s direction. “ What? I can feel that you have something to say, so just spit it out.”
Yari shifts, finally tucking his phone away. He gives The Ivory this sort of doe-eyed expression that has me wondering about the nature of their relationship.
Is it strictly business?
Does The Ivory just entice this type of Daddy-me subservience out of everyone??
“I told you my feelings on this when you brought in the team from Medellin,” Yari says cautiously, yet still getting his point across. The Ivory leers at him. I don’t think I’m breathing. “Do I feel your actions are justified? Of course I do…”
The Ivory lifts a light eyebrow at him. “But…?”
Yari exhales. “ But I wish you would’ve at least spoken with him first. Now everything is a big mess. We all knew Lemuel had grievances—”
“He can shove his grievances up his ass,” the Warden barks, then rubs his eyes, hard.
“I’ve been nothing but accommodating to that blowhard.
Maybe if he’d spent a little more time playing the game, and a little less time fawning over a goddamn serial killer, we wouldn’t all be dealing with the repercussions months fucking later. ”
An uncontrollable snort bursts out of me, and they both stare. I clear my throat. “What is Dr. Love’s problem, anyway? Doesn’t he have everything he wants?? Free room and board in a mansion, which I’m only assuming is massive and extremely fancy…”
“It is,” The Ivory croons with smug amusement.
“His dream job examining psychopaths, and his perfect , precious monster to worship him like the god he believes himself to be.” My eyes roll to the heavens. “That he even has the nerve to be dissatisfied is infuriating.”
Manuel Blanco gives me a studious once-over, lips curved as if this pleases him. He grips the edge of his desk at his sides while leaning back against it, tapping his foot a few times on the floor.
“He may still be a bit salty over some things that happened while he was away…” His voice trails, and my forehead lines. “When he was supposed to be fetching you . Yet another job he half-assed.” He glances at Yari. “I’m beginning to think his talents were slightly exaggerated.”
Curiosity ripples through my thoughts. What happened while he was away…?
Yari shrugs. “Either way, he’s not the problem.”
“He’s not?” The Warden hisses.
“ Okay , he’s one of them. But I still think things need to be rectified with Jonathan.”
The Ivory is visibly stewing in petulance, tapping his foot over and over again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore…”
Man, I’m confused. Jonathan who?
“Jefe… please. Over a decade …” Yari shakes his head admonishingly, prodding , and I’m shocked at his audacity. Brazen thing. “That’s longer than I’ve been around.”
“I’m well aware of that,” The Ivory teems, pinning Yari with a heated glare. “Which means you’re just as disposable as he is. So watch it.”
Yari isn’t even fazed. “I’m just saying, why not at least try to be civil?”
“Have you forgotten who I am?” The Ivory scoffs while Yari continues to stand his ground. “I’m not in the business of coddling people. Especially those who refuse to play by the rules. I demand nothing shy of unwavering dedication.” His dark eyes glide to me. “ Loyalty is everything.”
A chill zips up my spine.
“But you never even attempted to explain—”
The Ivory slams his fist down on the desk, effectively shutting Yari up.
“I don’t need to explain shit! This is my goddamn world!
He’s just existing in it, for my entertainment.
My needs, not his!” He stops to breathe out slowly, jaw visibly tight.
“He knows who I am, and I know who he is. Period . If my guard dog wants to bite the hand that feeds him, he better have jaws of fucking steel.”
Despite my blood rushing in my ears, I’m able to make out the sound of footsteps clomping in the distance. Growing louder.
Manuel Blanco straightens. Yari’s eyes widen, glistening with concern. I turn in my chair to face the door, noting Kent’s hand slipping onto the gun on his holster.
The steps are approaching the door as The Ivory motions for Kent to stand down, which he does, reluctantly.
Bang bang bang!
Three loud knocks—or rather slams —from a fist against the door cause me to jump, despite knowing it was coming.
“Who is it?” The Ivory calls out patronizingly.
No answer. Just an audible growl before the door bursts open, and Officer Chevelle storms in.
“His ears must have been ringing,” The Ivory murmurs, I’m assuming to us, though his eyes are stuck on Velle. Smirk intact.
In fact, we’re all staring at Velle. I can practically see his already short fuse sizzling up.
He stomps into the room, making quick note of me, Kent, and Yari, before settling his deep blue eyes on the Warden.
“Get rid of them.” He hisses a command at the Warden; the low rumble of an animal about to strike.
The Ivory folds his arms over his chest again. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of my staff.”
Wait… I’m his staff??
Velle’s eyes drop to me once more. But he quickly gives up the request for privacy, likely knowing it’ll go nowhere. He stalks closer to Manuel Blanco, and Kent pulls his gun. But again, The Ivory lifts a hand.
All focus in the room is on the two men who are breeding so much tension-wrapped hostility, it’s becoming difficult to breathe.
“I’ve had enough,” Velle snarls at the Warden’s face. So quiet, it’s barely audible.
“Are you ready to apologize?” The Ivory croons.
Velle looks to be near boiling point. “ Thirteen goddamn years… And this is the thanks I get?!”
“I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me, Jonathan…” The Ivory hums, and my eyes widen.
Oh, shit…
Jonathan.
John Chevelle. Duh. Wow, I feel thick.
“Don’t fucking gaslight me,” Velle hisses. “You started this. I want them gone, or so help me—”
“So help you what? ” The Ivory snarls.
Velle pushes in closer to his face. “This island is as much mine as it is yours. I built this fucking place, and I can tear it down just as easily. Don’t fuck with me.”
The Ivory’s jaw tics. His eyes harden, black as death and just as ominous. He steps forward, getting into Velle’s face until they’re barely a breath apart. The rest of us are frozen solid while they stare one another down, rage crackling between them like electricity.
“Watch your fucking tone, Officer,” The Ivory simmers. “I’m very aware of your Achilles heels … Both of them.”
“Your threats don’t mean shit,” Velle grunts. “I. Want. Them. Gone. Or they’ll all end up six feet under, starting with that prick Pedroia.”
The Ivory’s fist tightens and releases at his side, and Velle looks like he’s seconds from lunging. I should probably get out of the way, lest I inadvertently wind up in the middle of a brawl.
“You don’t give orders in this building anymore, Jonathan,” The Ivory utters, deadly soft, right over Velle’s mouth. “You lost that right when you forgot your place at my fucking feet .”
“Fuck you!” Velle spits. “This is your last chance… Manuel .”
“I swear to God, I will end you!” The Ivory roars, grabbing Velle by the throat.
Velle rips his hand away, launching into The Ivory, backing him against his desk. The Ivory smacks Velle across the face.
Velle makes another move, but I can’t see a thing anymore. Their limbs are flying around, curses and bellows of rage bouncing off the walls. Kent is instantly between them, wrenching them apart.