9. Caden
Caden
The bass rolled through me as I walked the edges of The Thorn, each heavy beat vibrating through the obsidian marble floors. Crystal chandeliers hung like constellations in the darkness, their glow fractured through smoke and glass, scattering gold across velvet booths and silk-clad bodies.
Everything here gleamed with excess—the alcohol, the guests—specifically curated and unapologetically expensive, which made it the perfect face of the Beast’s empire. A club to entertain the rich and influential all while hiding the truth.
Years ago, when Sebastian, Langdon, and I decided to strike out on our own away from my father, we needed a way to make money.
Real money. So, we’d turned to the underground matches, where the more vicious you were, the bigger the pay.
Sebastian dominated the ring almost immediately, standing taller and broader than even me, becoming an immovable presence people learned to fear.
The money poured in, especially once we started rigging the bets.
And with it came a reputation within the Underworld.
When we moved to take over the cocaine trade not long after, there was little resistance. Now we controlled the largest manufacturing and distribution network for the powder on the entire continent.
My mask sat heavy on my face, gaining widened glances from those who looked at me long enough to recognise it. Ignoring their presence, I moved towards the bar, waiting until Arabella had finished serving before gaining her attention.
She smiled at my mask, her hair tied up with a few dark strands framing her face. “Suits you,” she said, clearly amused. “Told you they’d be a good idea.”
“Bas here?” I asked, already knowing the answer. If Ara was present, then so was Sebastian. He liked to give her the illusion of freedom, but when it came to her safety, he was obsessive to the point of madness.
“In his office.” Her eyes glittered with the same defiance that had fascinated my cousin for so long, even as she absently touched the red rose pendant resting tight against her throat.
The rose was the Beast’s mark, an unspoken warning that she belonged to him and that anyone who dared harm her would answer to his wrath personally. As a deterrent, it worked more often than not. But in an industry like ours, often was never enough.
Which was why whenever Ara wasn’t with one of us, she had a guard at her side. Always. Even when she worked behind the bar of our own club.
“You think you could talk Sebastian into easing up on the security?” she asked, glancing to her right where her latest guard stood and watched. “This is all a little overkill.”
“What do I look like, a mug?” I chuckled, and she dramatically sighed.
“Fine, but I’m making you read the raunchiest of romance novels when it’s my turn to pick.”
“I’m not in your book club, Ara.”
She smiled, triumphant. “You are. Lang and I voted, so you’re overruled.”
Knowing there was no point in arguing, I simply shook my head.
I genuinely didn’t understand how Sebastian managed it.
Control wasn’t just a preference for him, it was an almost pathological compulsion.
He needed order and obedience. And yet Arabella, with her quiet rebelliousness and refusal to bend, somehow anchored him.
She challenged him in ways that should have driven him over the edge, not pull him back from it.
It was a dangerous balance, but for reasons I couldn’t fully grasp, it worked, and I was grateful for it. My cousin’s demons had a way of roaring too loud, of dragging him somewhere neither Langdon nor I could reach. Until Ara.
That didn’t mean I didn’t find her annoying. Especially when she teamed up with Langdon, clearly delighted in provoking me.
“Langdon’s trying to gain your attention.”
I turned, finding the bastard in question standing in a darkened corner with a rhythmic click-snap-click of his lighter.
When our eyes met, he gave a brief nod and tilted his head towards the back.
Murmuring my thanks, I headed his way. Langdon fell into step beside me without a word, the lighter’s click finally going still as we moved.
Sebastian’s office was situated on the floor above and, taking the lift, we arrived within minutes. He sat behind his desk, his mask on the wood while Langdon and I removed ours.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, setting my mask beside his. “I don’t know how you’ve worn that thing for so many years.” It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. It was just always there. Like I was constantly aware of this weight on my face.
“You get used to it,” Sebastian said.
“I think it’s cool,” Langdon signed, grinning.
I crossed my arms, resigned. “The masks were a good idea. They’re doing exactly what they’re meant to.” The distinctive half skull was recognisable to the people who mattered, a warning as much as an identity. A statement that made them hesitate, think twice before going against us.
“I’ll tell Arabella you approve.” My cousin smirked, his midnight eyes clashing with mine. “So, how did it go with the Mistress of Whispers?”
Lang’s gaze snapped in my direction, and then he threw his head back in what was supposed to be a laugh. Nothing but a faint scratching sound escaped, but his delight was evident. “You went alone?” he signed. “I don’t know whether to be offended or intrigued.”
Sebastian’s leather chair squeaked beneath his weight. “What happened with going together?”
“I was worried she’d try to seduce Lang,” I said dryly, leaning against the wall. “You know how weak he is.”
A sharp whistle, and I turned to find Langdon flipping me his middle finger with a grin.
“She denied meeting Isaac,” I continued, “even after presenting her with evidence. Then quickly changed her tune and said when she left the hotel room he was alive.”
“You try and fuck her?” Langdon signed. “Because I wouldn’t say no.”
I ignored him.
“I don’t really see her capable of killing him, but that doesn’t mean I trust her.”
“Of course not, she deals in secrets.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair with a frown. “But she’s an asset and will continue to be as long as she doesn’t become a problem.”
“What happens if she fucks us over?”
“I’m sure she will … It’s in her nature.” Sebastian paused for a moment. “But we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.”
Unlike Sebastian, who needed people to recognise him, Aeris worked better in the shadows. To everyone she was just the owner and entertainer at Atlantis. But to those in power, she was the Mistress of Whispers, a woman who could dig up just about anything—if you had the right money.
Langdon cocked his head to the side, his hands moving slowly, like he was still turning the thought over. “You think she actually killed him?” he asked, a flicker of grim amusement crossing his face. “The guy was a prick, but leaving him like that, cock out and all, was cold.”
“We don’t know what she’s capable of.” I shrugged, knowing that while Aeris was recognisable, her services were reserved only for those who could afford them.
This was the first time she’d directly interfered with us, and normally anyone who posed a threat would already be dealt with. But Sebastian was right, the reach of her network, and the information she could uncover through it, made her an asset.
“She asked how to get an audience with you,” I added. “I told her she couldn’t.”
A laugh caught in Sebastian’s throat, but he didn’t release it.
I watched him closely, attuned to every tightening muscle in his shoulders and every flicker of distance creeping into his eyes.
He’d been better since Ara, not so quick to anger and less lost in memories that should remain forgotten, but I still couldn’t break the habit of watching him.
Always waiting for another manic break that I’d have to try and bring him back from, usually by letting him beat the shit out of me in the ring.
“You good?” I asked, and Sebastian’s jaw tensed at the question.
“Always.” He glared, and I read his expression. I’m fine, worry about something else. “How’s your father?”
I narrowed my eyes at the subject change. “Arsehole as usual. He wants heirs.”
“Heirs?” Sebastian chuckled.
“Not to forget marriage first, because we all know how traditional he is.”
“Very,” Sebastian said dryly. “What can you expect from a blue blood money launderer for one of the biggest drug enterprises on the continent.”
Langdon whistled, his hands shaking as he laughed. “Better get to it then, considering the last time you fucked a woman was … how long ago?”
This time it was my turn to flip him off. “He also wants me to scare one of the partners at the firm. Apparently he’s been skimming money that doesn’t belong to him.”
“Anything to do with us?” Sebastian asked, his tone darkening.
I shook my head. “Nah, just some muppet.”
“Take backup if you need it.” The edge in his voice wasn’t concern so much as a warning.
This wasn’t exactly the first time someone had tried to steal our money.
But I waved off his suggestion, already feeling the familiar curl of resentment tightening in my chest, my father’s fingerprints all over another mess he expected me to clean up.
My phone vibrated, and I answered it without checking. “Yeah?”
“The van’s been hit ten minutes ago.”
“Hit?” I asked, placing the call on loud so I could pull up the trackers. “Hit how?”
I’d personally designed the drop-off routes to avoid crossing paths with rivals, limiting the possibility of this exact situation.
The van’s signal blinked on the map, three miles off course.
I turned to Sebastian. “Our van’s been fucking stolen.”
Someone had the audacity to steal from us and didn’t even bother disabling the fucking tracker. They were either overconfident or stupid.
I found our van tucked beneath a bridge, the side open and two men grinning, chatting and snorting our fucking product direct from a sliced-open bag.
Langdon vibrated beside me, barely contained energy making his movements quick and restless as he flicked his lighter on and off.
As if in sync we both exited the car at the same time, Langdon rushing over to grab the first guy by the back of his neck, gun pressed to his head. His accomplice froze, eyes like fucking saucers. He didn’t even notice me, not until he heard the sound of metal against concrete.
“Go for a weapon, and you’ll be dead before you even reach it,” I warned, scanning them for emblems, ink, just anything that might tell me who the hell they belonged to.
The only symbol I could make out was the graffiti overhead.
“You mugs Peckham Crowns?” I asked, and Lang’s guy mumbled a somewhat confident, “Yeah.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, dragging the hammer behind me as I stepped forward. The metal scraped against the floor, the sharp sound echoing beneath the bridge. “Does Bradley know you’re stealing from the Beast?”
Langdon shoved his guy forward, forcing him to his knees. With a sharp whistle, he angled his gun towards the other man, who was just smart enough to follow the unspoken command and drop as well. Although reluctantly.
“We didn’t know this was the Beast’s,” Lefty said, his head bowed and shoulders hunched. Righty, though, held my gaze as if he had any sort of power in this situation.
I take it back—he isn’t smart.
So I drove my fist through his cheek, hard enough to break something. If I chose the hammer, I’d likely kill him. And I needed them both alive for at least the next few minutes.
“Who gave you the information regarding the shipment?”
Lefty glanced up at Lang, his eyes widening, and I understood why. Langdon stood there in his mask, his dark-blond hair dried into a slight curl and eyes like embers—brown and holding a molten amber glow that promised death.
A strange sound escaped his lips, not an answer, and Righty was being defiant once more. Satisfaction burst through me when Righty’s knee shattered, his scream too loud before I reached down and grasped his throat.
“Let’s try this again,” I said evenly. “Who gave you the information about this shipment?”
I eased the pressure slightly, but he offered nothing except choked gargles and broken cries.
Useless.
“We don’t know!” Lefty shrieked when I raised the hammer in his direction. “Bradley got the tip. We were just given the route and told where to hit. That’s it. I swear!”
I glanced at Langdon, who shrugged.
With a sigh I called through to the back-up team. “Pick up Silas and make your way to my pin. You’ll need to clean up and finish the delivery.”
I hung up, and Langdon took two shots, the silencer muffling the sound. Sebastian’s number popped up just as both men slumped forward, dead.
“Has it been dealt with?”
“Yeah. It’s handled. Another team’s en route,” I said, swapping to video in case Langdon wanted to speak. “Find anything your end?”
Sebastian’s gaze shifted off-camera, and a whimper tore through the background.
“If this was internal,” he said after a beat, voice steady despite the pathetic cries, “our driver wasn’t involved.”
Flipping the camera, Sebastian revealed the dungeon beneath Thorns and Marko hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. He’d been beaten, bruises spotting his ribs where I assumed Sebastian had used him as a punching bag.
“It wasn’t … wasn’t me …” he gargled, blood spilling from his lips. “Please!”
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” Sebastian growled, the camera flicking back to reveal his face, blood spraying across his cheek.
Well, guess we needed to hire a new driver.
“Someone’s betrayed us,” Sebastian said calmly, even as anger tightened his features. “Figure out who.”