Chapter 24 Maeve #3
Calder flexes his jaw. “Everything. A full asset list. Originals of every motion filed. Copies of all relevant correspondence. Messages between Tribunal members. Memos that never made it onto the official record.”
I’m quite interested in how he managed to get a hold of some of these things.
He must have a friend—or a few—on the Tribunal.
“We’ll need copies,” I say, and he nods down at Esme, who immediately makes a note of it.
I scan my pages, then look up. “The Tribunal’s legal spine for this will be one of three things, and once we know which, Draven should be able to get them released.”
“Easily,” Draven adds.
He leans forward a fraction. “If it’s so fucking easy, why do they still have control over my legacy? They’re sitting on assets that aren’t theirs.”
Draven’s eyes flash gold. “Because you’ve clearly been trying to handle it yourself without understanding the games the Tribunal can play.”
“And what makes you an expert?” Calder demands.
Lucifer makes a gagging noise. “God, you two are so sexy when you talk about bureaucracy. Whip them out boys, I’m sure I’ll be happy to compare them for you.”
I groan, and Esme gasps in horror.
“Shut up,” I hiss, shaking my head at the lot of them.
“We work fast,” Draven says smoothly, unfazed. “I can guarantee a hearing within a fortnight.”
“You do work fast,” Calder says, studying him.
Draven’s lip curls. “I don’t like being manipulated.”
My chromius purrs like a cat being stroked—traitorous bitch. If I could drown her in the ocean, I would.
A bath tub would work well enough, I suppose.
Esme glances at me, then at my notebook, and her expression softens.
Lucifer leans over, peering at the folder. “Does this include any blackmail? Oooh, please tell me there’s murder.”
Esme’s lips twitch, just barely.
Calder doesn’t even look at Lucifer. “No.”
Lucifer pouts. “Boring.”
“However, something you’ve yet to mention could hinder this case,” Draven says. I look over at my boss, not sure what he means. “Your brothers.”
“What about them?” Calder’s tone has gone cold, and I shiver.
I reach for my glass of sparkling water, the raspberries bobbing in the bubbles like jewels. I take a sip, and another, as I wait for the tension to settle between the two predatory alpha males.
“My brothers think this is a lost cause,” Calder admits. His ring clinks against the table. “But I won’t drop it.”
“We can proceed without them, then,” Draven says.
Lucifer tilts his head, an understanding glint in his expression. “There’s something in those files that could hurt you.”
He states it like a fact, clearly knowing the answer already.
A barely concealed flinch confirms the answer. Calder leans forward, slow and deliberate. “Yes. So, now you know why this matters so much.”
I swallow because my chromius is pressing at my ribs like she’s trying to climb out and stare at him properly.
Stupid thing. Calm down.
We can’t go up against a dragon and win.
“What matters,” I say evenly, forcing my focus back onto the facts, “is what they’re really hiding. Because if they were confident in the law, they’d just win this one in court.”
I meet Calder’s gaze.
“They’re keeping this out of the public record for a reason, and if we can figure it out, it should work to your advantage.”
Draven nods in agreement. “So, get the paper trail to my office by Monday, and we’ll make a move.”
“No need. I have it here.”
Calder reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a slim folder.
He slides it across the table—stopping it well short of my hands, placed carefully where I can choose to take it without touching him at all.
My fingers tighten around my pen. Then I reach forward and drag it towards me, ignoring the small tremor in my wrist.
Calder watches me for a beat, his expression unreadable.
“This is everything I have,” he says. “From the very first notice we filed.”
Esme exhales quietly like she’s been holding her breath for a week.
Draven’s eyes flash gold. “Good.”
I flip the folder open.
And right there is a date that makes my stomach drop.
Because I recognise it.
And the reason I know it is not going to be good for any of us.
I close the folder slowly, keeping my face neutral. Now is not the best time to bring this specific case up.
I should tell Draven in private and see how he wants to go about it.
“I’ve seen the Blackroot name mentioned in the archive index before,” I say, buying myself time.
Draven’s gaze flicks to me, warm gold under the mask. “That’s useful, angel.”
Calder leans forward a fraction. “You have access to the Tribunal archives?”
“I did,” I mutter. “Before Julian nearly died and the Tribunal tightened their chokehold on us.” I shake my head. “Don’t worry, this helps. We’re getting somewhere now.”
And then Calder tells us the part the Tribunal didn’t want anyone to hear.
I write, and I write.
I pretend that my hands aren’t shaking.
That my chest doesn’t feel too tight.
That the information spilling onto these pages isn’t about to rip the ground out from under everything Adrian has been building around me.
Because when we win this, Calder’s case won’t just change his future.
It will become precedent for mine.
And I might finally escape this shit after all.
Oh, Calder.
Thank you so very much.
“Clearly,” Lucifer says, waggling his brows, “it’s time for me to do what I do best.”
We’ve got enough to move forward now, and I feel at ease with this case.
Even if it’s from a selfish standpoint.
Calder’s timeline is established. The Tribunal’s oversight excuse is documented. And we have a neat little list of names that keep repeating like a bad rash.
Esme has dates. Calder has documents. Draven has that look that means someone is about to regret existing.
And Lucifer, well, he’s decided it’s his personal mission to go out on the prowl, despite the fact that Draven has refused to pay him a contractor’s fee.
Black’s brow lifts. “Which is?”
Lucifer’s smile sharpens. “Make myself useful.”
Draven’s gaze flicks to him—a silent exchange I don’t catch—before he gives a single nod.
Lucifer is gone moments later, melting into the shadows of the upper level of the club like he was never there at all.
My stomach twists.
I don’t like how easily he left. How he didn’t say goodbye.
No—my chromius is the one who doesn’t like that.
Not me.
Draven leans closer. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “He’ll leave us the car. We’ll see him at home, okay?”
I inhale slowly through my nose. Exhaling shakily before trying again.
Okay.
I can do this.
I nod, ducking my head.
Calder stands next and snaps his fingers at the phoenix. He’s a prick.
Esme gathers her notebook and gives me a small, polite smile that I return before I can overthink it.
“Monday,” Draven says.
Calder nods once. “Monday.”
Then they’re gone, swallowed by the dim VIP walkway and the shifting bodies, leaving only the thrum of bass and the scent of vanilla and alcohol where they’d been.
I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath for an hour.
Draven doesn’t relax right away. He watches the room, reads it, then turns back to me—gold eyes softening, the bear in him easing down.
“You did well, angel.”
My chromius lights up in joy. Pathetic reptile.
“I did my job,” I mutter, snapping my notebook closed.
Draven’s mouth quirks. “Mm. Still.”
He nods towards the bar tucked into the corner of the upper level—quieter, darker, far from wandering hands.
“Come have a drink with me,” he says like it’s nothing.
Like he’s not offering to stay out, in a place I know he hates just as much as I do.
As if I’m good enough to be seen out in public with him.
My pulse stutters.
“A drink,” I repeat stupidly.
His gaze holds mine.
“Just one,” he promises.
And, for some unhinged reason, the thing that terrifies me isn’t the club anymore, it’s the fact that I say yes because I want to.
Not my chromius.
But me.