Rowan
Her eyes were wide, lips parted, but all it really did was draw attention to the pale green face mask.
More importantly, I could feel her unease—the way her gaze flicked around the room, trying to make sense of us.
She looked between her unconscious father and Sophie, torn.
She wanted to go to him, but Nick’s scalpel kept her rooted to the spot.
“I don’t have a lot,” she said quietly. “How much does he owe?”
Her head dipped a fraction. Her shoulders followed.
“Alec,” I said, “today’s precise total?”
“Fourteen thousand four hundred and ninety,” he replied without looking up. “With interest and penalties.”
Nick and Alec both watched her closely.
Ella thought Nick was the one to fear—but I knew better. Alec’s sadism was quieter. Observational. He watched, waited, then struck. Not out of impulse, but enjoyment.
At least Nick was honest.
“How can he owe so much?” she whispered.
I slipped a hand inside my suit, drawing her attention, and pulled out the credit notes. When I held them out, she hesitated before taking the paper. Even beneath the mask, I could see her long lashes and pale silver eyes flicking across the figures.
“It adds up,” I said evenly. “He defaulted on the first loan. Then took out a second under a different name.”
Nick dragged the flat of the scalpel slowly across her father’s forehead.
She flinched.
Anger warred with fear across her face.
“As for the woman,” I continued, calmly removing the papers from her grasp, “she’s an example of what happens when you lie, steal, and betray us.”
Sophie stirred, shaking her head as muffled sounds pushed past her gag.
Nick pinched her eyelid between his fingers and pulled it taut.
“No,” Ella whispered.
The word hadn’t even finished leaving her mouth.
The eyelid was gone.
Ella stumbled toward her father as Sophie’s muffled screams filled the room.
Nick didn’t hesitate.
He moved on to the next one.
“Please stop this,” she cried, staring at me.
“This is what happens when you cross us,” Nick said, his voice tight and unyielding.
Her gaze dropped back to the blood-slick scalpel.
One rapid motion.
Silver slicing through skin, tissue, vein.
Ella swayed, her eyes rolling back as her knees buckled—but I caught her before she hit the floor, steadying her against me.
“Don’t let this be you,” I whispered.
My words dragged her back to the present. She blinked rapidly, her focus snapping to me instead of the carnage behind her.
“I can pay you back,” she whispered, pulling away. “I can get a loan from the bank.”
“Your credit history won’t allow it,” I replied calmly. “Your past impacts your score. No bank will touch you.”
Her gaze flicked to her father.
He was almost certainly the reason. She was too meticulous. It was hard to believe they were related at all—let alone father and daughter.
“I’ll spare your father’s neck,” I murmured, my voice low and even. “If you choose to replace Sophie. She was good on her knees—and as you can see, her position just opened up.”
Her gaze slid back to Sophie.
The gag was still lodged in her mouth. Her face was slick with blood, the pooling red spilling over the edge of the plastic and dripping onto the floor beneath.
She didn’t vomit.
Didn’t faint.
Didn’t cry.
Ella stood there, utterly still, processing.
I glanced at Alec. He sat perched on the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees, watching her with quiet intensity.
Nick wiped the scalpel clean, slow and methodical—yet his eyes never left her.
We were all waiting.
“For how long?”
The question irritated me. She should have conceded already—but perhaps it was the two years she’d spent in medicine that kept her upright. Trained composure. Controlled breathing. Delayed shock.
“For as long as I say,” I replied lightly. “You’ll hand in your notice at work. Your apartment will be vacated. You’ll divide your time between Dominion and my home.”
Her mouth opened.
I raised a hand.
“You’ll be given time to settle into your new role,” I continued. “This is not a negotiation.”
We waited.
The plastic beneath her slippers rustled as she stepped toward her father. Alec rose from his chair to observe, but she didn’t touch him. She simply stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
“Okay,” she said at last—flat, hollow.
The first rupture.
“Your father will be returned to where he was found,” I said, passing the credit notes to Nick.
He flicked his lighter. The corner of the paper caught, curling black as it burned.
“Come with me, Ella,” I said, turning to unlock the door. “I’ll show you your new home.”
Alec and Nick would follow once they finished with Sophie and James Constantine.
Thank God for useless parents.