Page 280 of Coal Hearts

Spying a chance to run, I bolted off the deck and into Peter’s outstretched arms. Without a word, he dragged me behind one of the many happy-babbling fountains, this one with a heron peering down at us with a fish in its mouth.

Skidding to my knees, I turned back and watched the anarchy unfold.

In a vicious flash, the guards yanked Henri from his chair, kicked the back of his legs, and slammed him to his knees.

Their fingers squeezed around triggers.

I stiffened for a second bang.

Victor threw up a hand. “Wait!”

Everyone froze.

Slaves and Masters combined.

A prickly, powder keg of energy consumed the entire garden as waitstaff darted back inside.

Victor stalked to stand over Henri. Holding out his fingers, he waited for one of the guards to pass him a gun.

With an evil sniff, he pressed the muzzle squarely on Henri’s forehead. “You’re a what?” His hiss reminded me of a thousand cobras, a hundred rattlesnakes. His tongue seemed forked, his face completely inhuman. “Say that name again, I fucking dare you.”

Henri didn’t shiver or try to get away. His voice was steady and sure. “I’m a Mercer. I’m the bastard son of Quincy Mercer the First. He kept a stable of slaves in France. He raped my mother for over a decade.”

Victor bared his teeth. “I’m aware the late Quincy Mercer shared my interests but the current one—”

“My brother. He goes by Q.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Victor hissed again. “That motherfucking cocksucker.”

“Don’t think cock is his flavour of choice, but I tend to agree with you.” Henri shrugged. “I’ve only met him once, but he didn’t care at all about trading my life for what he wanted.”

“He’s the one who sent you?”

“He is.” Henri’s back rippled with righteous strength. “I’ve been honest, Victor. Every confession about what I want and every urge I feel has been the godawful truth. I was born to a monster and I’ve been one ever since. My brother figured he could use that against me, but...pity for him, I’ve found where I belong.”

My heart pounded.

I didn’t understand.

W-What’s going on?

So...he’s not really a cop?

Keep up, Ilyana!

Peter wrapped his arm around my shoulders as Victor loomed over Henri. He swayed on the balls of his feet, grinding the gun into Henri’s forehead. “There’s no record of you in any of the files I have on that bastard. No link. No alert. I’ve been thwarting his attempts to find me for years, and there hasn’t been a fucking whisper of a brother.”

“That’s what made me perfect for the job.” Henri dared rise higher on his knees, pushing against the gun. “You say you see me. You do. I didn’t lie about any of it. In fact...” He swatted at the gun, then looked over his shoulder, his eyes skating over scattered jewels until stopping on me in Peter’s hold.

He scowled but said softly, “The only one I truly lied to was Ily. I lied when she thought I was a cop. I lied when she thought I would let her go. I lied when she thought I was good.”

Terror crawled up my throat.

I shook my head, hating that truth blazed in his grey stare.

No longer troubled. No longer shadowed.

All his whispers about enjoying what he’d have to do to me. All his urging not to fight him because it would trigger something he couldn’t control.