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Ivy holds up a takeaway bag and smiles apologetically. “We stopped for food on the way.”
“There was a queue,” Freddie says.
They don’t fool me. Freddie’s ear has been freshly bandaged.
“Is that food I smell?” Callen calls. His uncanny ability to smell food through the walls is akin to a bloodhound. A crash from dropped tins comes from the kitchen as he abandons his search through the cupboards. “There’s nothing proper to eat in this place. Just fucking quinoa. Who eats quinoa?”
We haven’t taken a proper look around the safe house because we’ve been preoccupied with making sure everyone arrives in one piece, but I stop to notice the little details now. The hallway has sparkling white marble floors and grey panelled walls with a chandelier overhead. There’s minimal furniture, but it’s of the highest quality, oozing sophistication, and the odd book and potted plant have been dotted around to make the place look lived in. Although, there isn’t dust anywhere, giving it a show-home vibe.
Two doors lead off the hallway, one to the living area and the other to a show-stopping kitchen with a gigantic island that seats six people on stools.
“I don’t think your stomach is at the top of the Killers Club priority list,” Ivy snaps at Callen as he pouts in the kitchen doorway,
She elbows past him and rolls her eyes at the thrown-open cupboards that look like they’ve been ransacked by a hungry bear.
I grab Freddie’s arm as he goes to follow her, searching his gaze. Is everything okay?
He nods. A tiny hint of a smile crosses his lips; the first I’ve seen on him in days. Whatever happened on their drive must have helped.
“Freddie,” Ivy shouts. “You can lay the table.”
His eyes sparkle. Okay, now I need to know what happened on their drive…
“Can’t we eat in front of the TV?” Callen groans. “They have a cinema screen in the sitting room that takes up an entire wall.”
“No,” she snaps. “I’m sick of room service and meals eaten on my lap.”
Seb shrugs in agreement, joining us. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
Freddie finds plates and cutlery, while Seb helps Ivy put the food in the middle of the island. Callen doesn’t help at all. He’s already claimed a box of chow mein and shovels it greedily into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten for weeks.
“Hey!” Callen points at a framed painting on the wall. “Isn’t that a Raptor?”
“Bram’s a big fan,” Seb adds for Ivy’s benefit.
I snicker at the irony of seeing one of my paintings on their wall. The Killers Club mustn’t know everything after all.
“Oh, is he?” Ivy asks, grinning mischievously. “They may be a group of deranged murderers, but the Killers Club have good taste in art.”
The painting is one of my favourites and an original. I was reluctant to part with it but no free wall space and the promise of a generous cash injection helped to sweeten the deal.
“Save some for the rest of us,” Seb says, snatching the noodles from Callen’s hands.
I pull out a stool for Ivy while Seb turns on a radio to drown out the sound of people chewing.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Callen asks Seb, wiping his dirty mouth with the back of his hand.
Ivy’s nose wrinkles in disgust. He eats like a fucking animal.
“We prepare to fight,” Seb says simply. “Daisy and Stephanie will arrive tomorrow, and then we’ll make our move.”
Callen licks his lips. “I can’t wait.”
“Are you sure you all want to do this?” Ivy asks, putting down her fork with a clang.
“We’re in this as much as you are, princess,” Callen says.
“Yes,” Seb says. “We need to stop Alaric, once and for all.”
