Chapter 7
The blonde kneeling between Dominic Blake's legs didn't even acknowledge our entrance.
She kept bobbing her head, her movements mechanical as Blake's manicured hand rested possessively on her crown, guiding her rhythm.
I felt bile rise in my throat. Not from the act itself, I'd seen far worse in this building, but from the casual display of power, the utter disregard for our presence, for her humanity.
For him, this was a power play. For her, another day serving the monsters who ran our world. I knew that feeling all too well.
Blake's eyes held no surprise as they flickered up to meet ours. Just mild irritation, as if we'd interrupted a business call rather than caught him with his cock in someone's mouth.
"Gentlemen," he said smoothly, making no move to stop or cover himself.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?
" My exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness that had been my constant companion for five weeks, suddenly crystallised into something harder.
I'd spent my childhood in this place, on my knees just like that girl, servicing men like Blake.
And here he was, continuing as if we weren't even there, as if the girl between his legs was furniture rather than a person.
"Stop," I said, my voice low but carrying enough authority to make the girl flinch.
"Get out." The girl paused, uncertain, her shoulders tense with fear.
Blake gave a slight nod, granting permission, and she scrambled to her feet, keeping her eyes down as she backed away from the desk.
I caught a glimpse of her face as she darted past me, young, pretty in a forgettable way, and wearing an expression of naked relief that made my chest ache.
She closed the door behind her, leaving us alone with the monster.
Blake casually tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. He leaned back in his leather chair, the picture of ease, though his eyes were calculating as they moved from me to Ryder to Logan.
"Well, well," he drawled, "What made you so keen on spoiling my Boxing Day work?"
"Is that what you call it?" Logan spat, his battered face contorted with disgust. He looked one wrong word away from leaping across the desk.
"What would your wife think about you fucking the staff?
" Blake's smile widened, genuine amusement in his eyes.
"How do you think my wife and I met?" He gestured to the spot where the girl had been kneeling.
"She was one of my best girls. Still is, in private.
" The casual admission was meant to unsettle us, to reinforce that in his world, everything, and everyone, was a commodity.
I swallowed the rage that threatened to choke me. We needed information, not a brawl.
"Enough," Ryder snapped, stepping forward.
His lean frame vibrated with barely controlled energy, his eyes too bright in his gaunt face.
He hadn't slept properly in weeks; none of us had really.
But Ryder was the worst, existing in a state of manic desperation that was becoming more unstable by the day.
"I don't give a shit about your sex life.
Where the fuck is Cade?" Blake's eyebrows rose, the first genuine reaction we'd got from him.
"Your Consort? Why would I know where she is?
" He gestured around the ornate office as if the question was absurd.
"You should keep better care of where you leave your things, boys.
" Logan moved so fast I barely had time to react, lunging across the desk with a snarl.
I grabbed his arm, yanking him back before he could reach Blake's throat.
"You sick fuck," Logan growled, straining against my grip. "If you've touched her, I'll tear you apart."
"Where is she?" Ryder demanded, his voice cracking with strain. "Do you honestly expect us to believe you have nothing to do with this?" Our actions seemed to finally get through to Blake causing his smug grin to fall.
He leaned forward, studying us more carefully, taking in the dark circles beneath our eyes, Logan's battered face, Ryder's gaunt appearance, my rigid posture. The playful cruelty faded from his expression, replaced by something sharper.
"Where is your Consort?" he asked, his voice now deadly serious.
"As if you don't know," I said, still restraining Logan.
"She was taken. Over a month ago." Blake's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features, genuine surprise.
I'd spent enough time with this man as a child to recognise when he was acting and when he wasn't. Right now, the shock in his eyes was real.
"Taken?" he repeated, his voice hardening. "What do you mean, taken?"
"Abducted," Ryder spat, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"Grabbed off the street. Beaten. We got a photo.
.." His voice broke, unable to finish the sentence.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons before handing it to Blake.
Blake's eyes narrowed, calculating, as he looked at the phone. .
"When did this happen?"
"Five weeks ago," I said, slowly releasing Logan as he seemed to regain some control. Blake leaned back in his chair, something like concern crossing his features.
"I've been at the Hole for the past six weeks. Just got back four days ago."
The Hole. The name sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
The Trivium's blacksite prison on a remote Scottish island, a place where those who broke Trivium law disappeared, sometimes forever.No communication in or out.
If Blake had been there, he couldn't have orchestrated Cade's abduction.
But that didn't mean he wasn't involved somehow.
"What were you doing at the Hole?" Ryder demanded. Blake waved his hand dismissively.
"Trivium business. Discipline. Oversight." His voice was clipped, making it clear the topic was closed.
"But Cadence Turner's disappearance, that's far more concerning. Someone should have informed me." He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "This isn't just about you three losing your plaything. This is an attack on the Trivium itself." Ryder let out a derisive snort.
"Unless the Trivium were the ones who took her." Blake's expression darkened.
"Why the fuck would we do that? A Regent's Consort is strictly off-limits, to be protected at all costs. It's one of our most sacred rules."
"Sacred rules," Logan echoed bitterly. "Like any of you care about rules when it suits your agenda."
"What are you talking about? What agenda would this be?" Blake demanded, genuine confusion on his face.
"Killingham," I said, watching his reaction carefully. "He's been pressuring us for months to replace Cade with Julia Latters. Making it clear we'd have an easier time if we had a 'proper' Consort."
"And we know you've wanted your hands on Cade since she was a child," Logan added, his voice dripping with disgust. "When her mother tried to sell her to you. You're not one to give up what you want, are you, Blake?"
A strange expression crossed Blake's face, not guilt or anger, but something almost like amusement. He leaned back in his chair, studying us with new interest.
"You three think you know everything, don't you?" He shook his head slowly. "You have it all wrong. I know for a fact that Killingham wouldn't harm your Consort."
"And why's that?" Ryder demanded. Blake's mouth quirked in a half-smile.
"I have my reasons for being certain. Reasons that are not mine to share." He tapped his fingers on the desk, contemplative. "And as for buying Cadence from her mother..." He let out a short laugh. "Who do you think tipped off her grandfather about her mother's intentions in the first place?"
The admission landed in the centre of the room like a grenade.
I blinked, trying to process what he was saying.
Blake had been the one to save Cade from Alyssa Turner?
The man who had abused me as a child, who had sold time with me to plenty of sick fucks, had prevented Cade from suffering the same fate?
"You expect us to believe you're suddenly a humanitarian?" Logan scoffed. “You are a known trafficker. Children aren’t exactly out of your remit, are they?”
"I am many things," Blake acknowledged with a disturbing lack of remorse. "But I am, above all, intelligent. And no intelligent man would fuck with The Gavel."
The name hit me like a physical blow. The Gavel.
A ghost story among the Trivium elites. The enforcer who had disappeared decades ago, the assassin who had executed Trivium justice swiftly and without mercy.
I'd heard whispers about him during my time in the Underground, spoken in hushed, fearful tones.
"What does The Gavel have to do with Cade?" Ryder asked, confused. Blake smiled, the expression almost feline in its satisfaction.
"Speaking of, has anyone told him his granddaughter is missing?" The silence that followed was absolute. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the implications crashing through my mind.
"Bruce Turner," I whispered, pieces clicking into place with horrifying clarity. "Cade's grandfather is The Gavel?" Blake nodded, looking pleased with the bombshell he'd dropped.
“The only man scary enough to be able to walk away from the inner circle and still live.”
"Fuck off," Logan said, though uncertainty clouded his voice. "We did our research on Cade’s family. Bruce Turner. He's a retired construction worker."
"And I'm just a respectable businessman who owns a private club," Blake countered with a raised eyebrow.
"If what you're saying is true," I said slowly, my throat dry, "then why didn't he protect her? Where is he now?"
"That," Blake said, leaning back in his chair, "is the question, isn't it?
The Gavel's granddaughter is taken, and he doesn't rain hell down on the fucking world?" He shook his head, expression thoughtful. “No, if he were even remotely aware that his precious granddaughter was missing, then he would be here in the thick of it.” Blake let out a short laugh. “I am actually surprised that you boys aren’t the ones missing after delivering the second punishment protocol a couple months back.” Ryder winced. I knew that it was still a sore subject for him; it was for us all, really. But Ryder lost something in those couple of weeks that I still didn’t think he had gotten back.
Logan sat back in his chair, his form deflated.
“Fuck,” he huffed. “This just got so much fucking worse.” He looked up at Blake. “If you didn’t take her, and her grandfather is the fucking Gavel, then who the fuck is crazy enough to go up against him?” Blake just grinned.
“I suggest the best way to find out is to ask the old man himself.”