23. Chapter 23 #3
“Just thinking about the guest list for the masquerade, Nathyn,” Maddox says, his tone like ice. “And how important it is that everyone in this room knows exactly where they stand.”
I feel the shift in the air, a sudden drop in temperature that has nothing to do with the AC.
I look from Nathyn's white knuckles to the side of Maddox's face, wondering what the hell I’ve missed while I was busy worrying about my own heart. Maddox is acting cool, still I see the tension in his jaw. He’s spent years building this kingdom just so he’d have the power to protect me, and now this cockroach is trying to use our lives as leverage.
Every word out of Nathyn's mouth feels like a thumb pressed into a fresh bruise.
Nathyn chuckles, tilting his head back to look at Maddox. "Right. The rotation. Keeping everyone in their proper place. That's the priority, isn't it? Knowing exactly where everyone fits... and who they’re fitting with."
I feel the temperature in the room drop another ten degrees.
My hand moves instinctively toward the leather of my holster.
I want to wrap my hand around the grip and see if Nathyn’s smirk stays in place when there's steel in his mouth. He’s not just hinting at a secret; he’s trying to drag the only good thing I have left through the dirt.
"Is there something you’d like to address?" Maddox asks. He steps closer, his silk shirt shimmering; looking every bit the untouchable king of his velvet-lined hell-scape, but I see the way his shoulders have gone rigid.
"Just saying," Nathyn’s eyes flick to me, then back to Maddox, "secrets are heavy, Boss. Especially when the Head of Security spends more time behind closed doors with you than he does on the cameras. It starts to look less like security and more like... servicing."
The silence that follows is deafening. Colson looks at the floor. Philzy looks at the door. The other guys look confused, and Vance looks like he’s waiting for me to give him the signal to break Nathyn’s neck.
"We’re here to discuss the floor rotation, not your obsession with your superiors' whereabouts," Maddox says, his voice dropping to a register that carries more threat than a scream. "And your place with us, Nathyn, is becoming increasingly negotiable."
Nathyn’s smirk doesn't fade, but his eyes sharpen. He thinks he has leverage. He thinks he’s found the crack in the armour. He has no idea that the armour is the only thing that's keeping him alive right now.
Maddox stands in the centre of the Persian rug, having a silent stare-down with Nathyn. The tension between them is a living breathing thing, thick and suffocating.
"Since some of you seem to have forgotten how a hierarchy functions," Maddox says, his voice cutting through Nathyn’s smug bravado like a razor through silk.
"I’m making a change. Effective immediately, Vance is the new Second-in-Command.
" Standing beside the door, Vance doesn’t move a muscle, but his aura shifts.
He goes from a silent observer to a loaded weapon.
A sharp, cold spike of confusion hits me in the gut.
I try to keep my face a mask of stone, my arms still crossed over my chest, but internally, my mind is racing.
Vance? He’s been here five minutes. Security is my territory; I set the rotations, I train the hires, and I sure as hell didn't sign off on a new 2IC in the middle of a shift.
I cut a glance toward Maddox, whose expression is unreadable, that perfect, frigid porcelain mask he wears for the world.
I want to demand what game he’s playing, but I keep my mouth shut.
I’d die before I challenged him in front of the team.
Making him look weak or indecisive is a line I’ll never cross, especially not with Nathyn sniffing around for a scent of blood.
Nathyn’s smirk doesn't just fade—it curdles. He lets out a sharp, ugly laugh, shooting up off the couch. "The new guy? You’re fucking kidding. I’ve put in nearly two years of cleaning up your messes. You can't just—"
"I can do whatever I want with my payroll," Maddox snaps, stepping into Nathyn’s personal space until they're standing eye to eye. "And right now, I’m paying for a loyalty that I’m not seeing."
"This is fucking bullshit," Nathyn sneers, looking over at me. "Rylen, you’re just going to let him—"
"Sit down and show some goddamn respect," Vance’s voice booms, vibrating off the walls. He steps forward, his shadow falling over Nathyn. There’s no hesitation in him, no 'new guy' nerves. He looks down at Nathyn with the disgusted pragmatism of a soldier looking at a malfunctioning piece of gear.
"The Boss gave an order. You don't like it? Take it up with the pavement outside." Vance growls .
Nathyn’s face flushes a blotchy, angry red. He looks between Maddox’s cold stare, Vance’s looming presence, the other men and my own silence backing him; while Colson and Philzy have practically retreated into the wallpaper, terrified of the fallout. He realises he’s lost the room.
"Whatever," Nathyn mumbles, his voice thick with resentment. "This place is going to hell."
He storms toward the door, shouldering past Vance, who doesn't even flinch.
The door slams behind him, leaving a ringing echo in its wake.
Maddox nods to Vance in approval then looks straight at me, his blue eyes searching mine for a split second, a silent request for my trust in him.
My lips thin to a line, but I give him the reassurance he's looking for anyway. He visibly relaxes.
I wait for the ringing echo of the door to fade before I speak. The tension in the room is still evident, but the immediate threat—Nathyn’s toxic mouth—is gone.
"Colson, Philzy," I bark, my voice rougher than I intended. "Take the other two recruits. I want a full sweep of the VIP lounge and the service tunnels. Check the locks on the private suites. And if you see Nathyn, stay clear of him. Go."
They don’t hesitate to leave, practically scrambling out, glad to be away from the wreckage of the meeting.
Vance lingers for a second, his eyes meeting mine with a nod of professional acknowledgment—a soldier recognizing their superior—before he turns on his heel and exits.
I wait for the door to click shut, the silence of the office rushing back in to fill the space Nathyn’s ego vacated.
Then, it’s just us. I immediately round on Maddox.
"Vance? Seriously, Mads?" I don't raise my voice, but the edge is there. "You just promoted a guy who’s been on the floor for seventy-two hours, to my 2IC without so much as a word to me. You made me look like I’m out of the loop in front of my own team."
Maddox looks exhausted. He walks back toward his desk, and reaches into the bottom drawer, pulling out a small, clear evidence bag and tossing it onto the mahogany surface.
It lands with a soft thud. Inside is a burner phone and a folded piece of lined paper.
My stomach drops as I step closer and I recognise the handwriting—Nathyn’s messy, arrogant scrawl.
It’s a list; names of high-profile clients, dates, and right at the very top, circled in aggressive red ink:
MADDOX .
"I didn't do it to undermine you, I did it because I needed someone in that 2IC slot who hasn't had time to be bought yet," Maddox says, his voice low and tight. "I found that in Nathyn’s locker."
I stare at Maddox’s name on that list. This is a target list. A hit or a kidnapping—either way, it’s a death sentence. "The locker checks are my responsibility. How did I miss—" I mumble, unable to draw my eyes away from the letters of his name.
"Because you were looking for drugs and contraband, not a betrayal this deep," Maddox interrupts, his eyes locking onto mine, dragging them up and burning with a fierce, protective light.
"I did a quick check on the phone logs. He’s been communicating with someone outside the club.
Mapping security blind spots , and—your personal schedule.
" I can hear Maddox's voice but it doesn't feel quite real, it's as if I'm caught between one reality and the next.
The betrayal is a cold blade between my ribs.
I’ve known Nathyn for nearly two years. I trusted him to have my back when the VIPs got rowdy.
Sure, he's been more of a dickhead than usual lately, but I figured that was just because he was pissed off about the whole Bry thing.
Only then do I remember Bry telling me that Nathyn moved out unexpectedly a few weeks prior, so that couldn't have really mattered to him. Could it?
"The power play with Vance wasn't just to piss Nathyn off," Maddox continues, stepping into my space. "I needed to isolate him. I needed him to crack, to feel the walls closing in so he’d do something stupid. Like fucking off for a smoke break where he’ll inevitably try to call whoever is on the other end of that burner, to tell them the plan is compromised.
" He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the ridges of my stomach, pulling me closer to him.
My eyes drift up his frame, but I'm not really seeing him, I'm lost in my memories. Trying to figure out what I've missed.
"I couldn't tell you before the meeting, I needed your reaction to be real.
I needed everyone to see that even you were blindsided, or Nathyn would have known it was a trap," Maddox states. He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. " I need you to trust me on this. I’m not just protecting the club anymore, I’m protecting us," he breathes, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine.
I close my eyes and inhale his scent, letting it wrap through my mind and ease my torment.
"Okay," I murmur, "I trust you."