Page 58 of Vows of Ruin

That gets a double-take. I just smile sweetly and settle even closer to Torque.

“Enough catching up,” Torque says. “We’ve got business.”

Cyrus arches a brow. “Always business. Fine. What’s the offer?”

Torque looks at me.

“How much debt is Sebastian Montclair in with you?” I ask.

Cyrus hums. “Ah, Sebastian. Odd fellow. Good taste in violence and profit. I loaned him five mil. He’s still three in the hole.”

“Three million,” Elias says through the comms. “He leveraged that debt hard. Makes sense, gives Cyrus leverage over his sick empire.”

I lean forward slightly, letting the neckline of my dress slip just enough to get the job done.

“What if I offer you the three million to walk away? No more contact. No more business. You pretend he doesn’t exist.”

Cyrus eyes me like he’s trying to see through my skin. “Why would I give that up? He’s building something big. Something profitable.”

Torque’s voice is steel. “Because I’m asking. And I’ve never asked you for anything. Not after what I did for you.”

Cyrus’ smile twists. “They're still calling you Torque, huh?”

Torque nods, “Yeah. They are.”

Cyrus looks at me again. “Tell me, darling, did he ever mention how he got that name?”

“Don’t take the bait,” Wrecker growls.

Cyrus tilts his head. “I assume you’re not here alone.”

I grin, wicked and slow, as I place my hand high on Torque's thigh. “All my husbands are here.”

That makes him falter. Slightly.

“Atta girl,” Riot whispers. “Rattled him.”

Cyrus sighs, pulls out his phone, and starts typing. “He owes me three, but he promised me ten times that when this is over. Once he breaks his sister, the whole world will open up for us.”

My blood turns to ice.

Cyrus leans back, smug. “I know who you are, Wrenley. You’re the sister. He just wants his share of the legacy. You took everything and left him nothing.”

I cross my legs slowly, left over right, letting the dagger glint under the slit of my dress.

“He’s trying to sell people,” Torque snaps. “You know that, right?”

“He’s not selling people,” Cyrus shrugs. “He’s selling legacy heirs, breeding contracts. People pay top dollar for the best genetics.”

I stand, Cyrus tracks every inch.

“Oh, don’t run, those who run?” He continues. “Well, accidents happen. No one cares.”

I can feel Torque rising beside me, his energy like a brewing storm.

“My shadows,” I say, letting my voice drift through the comms. “Tell me you heard that threat.”

“He’s dead,” Max replies. “Just say the word, Sparrow.”