Page 147

“You didn’t tell us anything,” Mathias mutters to himself.

Paulie starts begging then, the words slurred and desperate, pleading for a mercy everyone in this room knows he won’t get.

Quillan’s smile vanishes—not out of pity, but boredom. The shift is instantaneous.

Mathias pulls one hand from his pocket and checks his watch, the face catching the dim light. “Finish it.”

Quillan looks almost disappointed. “That’s it?”

“You’ve had your fun.”

“You never let me enjoy anything.”

“Would you prefer being late to dinner with Father?”

That shuts him up.

I snort, unable to help it. He’s such a child.

Quillan shoots me a murderous look that promises retribution later.

Mathias’s gaze slides back to me, and the air changes. “Adrien.” Something in his tone tells me the conversation has shifted. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.

“What?”

“The witness.”

Every muscle in my body goes taut.

Quillan, now focused on lining up a final kick to Paulie’s ribs, doesn’t seem to notice, but Mathias does. He watches me with that same unnerving calm, his eyes missing nothing.

I force myself not to glance at my phone burning a hole in my pocket. Not to think about the camera feed waiting there. Kamden asleep beneath the comforter, cream cashmere against his cheek. The pink cuff around his wrist, stark against his skin.

“Handled,” I say, the word coming out flat.

Mathias holds my gaze without blinking.

Quillan looks over his shoulder, distracted from his entertainment. “Oh, the kid?”

My jaw tightens until I feel the muscle jump.

“Yeah,” Quillan continues. “I meant to ask you about that.”

Mathias’s attention remains fixed on me, a predator waiting for the slightest flinch.

I hate how clearly he sees things.

Quillan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand despite there being nothing there, a nervous tic he’s had since before I met him. “Hope you made it quick.”

I say nothing.

“He looked fucking terrified in that footage.” Quillan’s voice loses some of its manic amusement, enough humanity returning that for a second I remember why Mathias keeps him around despite everything. “Nineteen, right?”

“Yes,” Mathias says.

Not me—Mathias.

My eyes meet his over Quillan’s head.