Page 59 of Feral King

“Maybe the fact that you can’t is a sign.”

He sighs. “Listen, I’m trying to help you.”

He matches my pace and I realize he’s not going to go away. I want to hit him or scream, maybe both.

“I know about the shooting in Red Hook. I know Julian was there, and I know Ethan Kang took a bullet. I also know that Julian went to a warehouse in Sunset Park afterward and did something that you need to be aware of before you make any decisions about whom you trust.”

I stop. The foot traffic moves around me without missing a beat. I don’t say anything, and I don’t look at him.

Alexander takes it as a cue. He slips his phone out of his inner coat pocket and holds the screen in front of me.

The first image is of a man zip-tied to a metal chair in a bare concrete room. His face is swollen beyond recognition—oneeye completely shut, the other a slit of red and purple. His jaw is dislocated or broken.

Alexander places his hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of foot traffic and against the wall of the nearest building, where no one can see what he’s showing me.

The second image is worse. It’s of a different man in the same room. He’s on the floor. There’s blood on the concrete—a lot of blood. The worst part is that his fingers appear to be pointing in very unnatural directions.

My blood runs cold. The city around me fades away.

The third image shows Julian standing over the second man, his sleeves rolled, his knuckles smeared with blood. His expression is strange, focused, but empty, like he’s doing a job he’s done dozens of times before.

“How… how did you get these?” I ask. It’s a silly question. What difference does it make? The content of the photos is what matters. But it’s all I can think of to say.

My hands are shaking. I try to stop them, but I can’t.

“One of my security guys was at the warehouse,” he says. His voice is calm and measured. He’s actually treating the situation seriously and not like some joke. “He followed Ethan’s people when the shooters were tracked down, then snuck in and took these pictures.”

I can’t take anymore. I shove the phone from my sight, trying to blink away the tears forming in my eyes.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to know what he is.”

“I know what he is.”

Alexander arches his eyebrows. “Do you? Because the woman I was engaged to, the woman who cried watching animal rescue commercials and volunteered at children’s shelters, that woman doesn’t end up with a man capable of this.” He raises the phone. “These are the people who shot at you. I get it. But this isn’t justice. This is sociopathic.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re no better. You’re part of this family.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “You know, people always thought I was just some jackass party guy, ignoring responsibility. But I wasn’t ignoring anything. I was trying to get away from this world. Julian’s world. He enjoys this. I don’t.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “What are you going to do with these pictures? Sell them to theTimes? Leak them to a blogger? Or use them to increase your chances at getting what you want?”

His mouth twitches just a bit, and I realize that I’ve hit the mark.

“You’re building a narrative, Alexander. That’s what you do. You curate a story and spin it, then you feed it to the press and let them do the rest.”

He clears his throat and composes himself.

“This isn’t anarrative. This is real life. These are real photos.”

“They are real photos and you’re going to use them to your advantage. Hell, that’s what you’re doing right now, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m trying to protect you.”

I let out a sharp, quick laugh. “Protect me? Is that what you were doing when you were sleeping with Sophia behind my back? Please! I’m not dumb enough to think that you would show me pictures like this unless it was all part of some screwed-up plan of yours.”

The words land, and he flinches.