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I crouch down. “What else does Philip have planned?” I ask, my voice low and tight with barely restrained anger.
He swallows hard, his eyes darting around nervously. “I—I don't know,” he stammers, his words tumbling out in a panic. “He didn’t tell me much.”
I lean in closer, searching his face for any sign of deceit. “You’re lying.”
Alexis shifts, wincing as the ropes dig into his wrists. Then, a flicker of memory seems to cross his face. “He mentioned something,” he says, his voice trembling. “S-something about a secret society.”
I straighten up, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. “The Sisterhood,” I mutter under my breath. Alexis nods frantically. Of course. I need to find out what Andrew’s involvement is in that establishment.
I pull my finger away from his fucked-up knee, rubbing the blood all over his cheek to clean it off, before slapping him. “Attaboy. Wasn’t so hard, right?”
Alexis chokes on an inhale. “Are you going to kill me?” His voice trails after me as I stride away.
With my back to him, I let out a laugh. “No. But if you think about telling anyone about what just happened, I’m going to kill your family, and I’ll make sure that Philip finds out you betrayed him. I’m sure he won’t be as merciful.”
My footsteps echo against the concrete floor as I ascend the worn staircase leading to the upper level of the warehouse.
I pull out my phone and dial Xander’s number, my thumb tapping against the screen impatiently.
“Xan.” I try to keep my tone steady despite the urgency prickling at the edges of my words. “I need you to arrange a meeting for me, but it has to be discreet.”
I pull up to the underpass of the bridge in Old Cebrene, the rhythmic rumble of my motorcycle fading into the background. It’s a quiet spot, a perfect meeting point.
Xander rode by my side. Behind us, two cars roll to a stop, our men staying inside while scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance.
I lean against my bike, gaze fixed on the road ahead, waiting for the person we’ve come to meet. The minutes stretch on, each second feeling like an eternity, and I let impatience creep in.
“What time did he say he’d be here?” I huff.
Xander looks at the time on his watch. “3:30. It’s 3:29, chill.”
I shoot him a disapproving glance. “We told him not to be late.”
“He’s fucking eighteen years old. Give him a little grace,” he argues.
“Exactly, he’s a man now. He needs to learn the concept of punctuality. And you know how much I hate being stood up, so he better show.”
Xan chuckles. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Abandonment issues. Dead parents.”
My face twists in utter disbelief. I ought to kill the motherfucker.
“That’s rich coming from a guy who was born to a junkie and an alcoholic father.”
Xander brings his hand to his chest. “Ouch. You hurt me, Loukas.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Consider yourself lucky you don’t have a bullet in your fucking ball sack. You’re the only person I’d ever let say that kind of shit to me.” Evander, too. I should shoot both the insolent bastards.
Xander full-on belly laughs. “You’re fucking twisted, dude.” Guilty.
Just then, a not-so-distant hum breaks through the stillness. The sound of an approaching vehicle.
My muscles tense in anticipation. I really fucking hope this doesn’t turn into an ambush.
I exchange a glance with Xander, and he nods, putting his hand on the back of his waistband where his gun is hidden. I pull mine out and place it on the seat of my bike.
The sleek car comes to a stop beside us, and a tall, young man steps out.
