Page 99 of Princess of Vengeance

“Do you ever feel like we gave away too much?” Imogen asks, ignoring his comment and the way I’m glaring at him from across the cramped space. “Joining the Syndicate, I mean.”

Elliot’s eyes narrow. “It’s a little late in the game to be having second thoughts, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t been having second thoughts,” she says carefully. “But even the most promising arrangement can go stale after so long. Maybe it’s time to reassess.”

Elliot snorts. “You mean the arrangement where Malcolm calls the shots and we all fall in line like good little soldiers? Yeah, I’d say the polish has gone right the fuck off that arrangement.”

I can’t even try to hide how surprised I am by the obvious crack in his loyalty. “That wasn’t the deal at the beginning, though, was it? Aren’t we all supposed to be equals?”

“Equals?” Elliot lets out a harsh laugh. “Nothing has been equal since day one. Malcolm made sure of that.”

Imogen shoots me a look that says we’re on the right track. “Remember when Rafael wanted to expand into Chicago last year? How Malcolm shut it down without even a discussion?”

“Or when he vetoed Cassandra’s plan to consolidate her territory in the east,” she adds. “No vote, just Malcolm making decisions. He’s getting more arrogant, more controlling, and consulting the rest of us less and less.”

Elliot’s jaw tightens. “That’s who he is. Malcolm has always done exactly what Malcolm wants.”

“But we don’t have to just accept it,” I press. “The Syndicate was supposed to make us stronger together, not make us his puppets.”

“And what do you suggest?” Elliot asks, his eyes fixed on me. “A strongly worded complaint?”

“I’m suggesting we need to re-evaluate who holds the power,” I say carefully.

“Rules are rules until they’re not,” Elliot says cryptically, watching my reaction. “Depends on who’s making them.”

“Exactly,” Imogen says softly. “Who makes the rules matters more than the rules themselves.”

I exchange a quick glance with her. There’s definitely an opening here.

“What if we changed who makes the rules?” Imogen asks quietly.

The room goes silent as her question hangs in the air between us—treasonous, dangerous, liberating.

Elliot’s eyes narrow. “You’re talking about removing Malcolm?”

“We’re talking about taking back control of our own lives,” I say. “Why should one man have power over all of us?”

“You think the others would go for that?” He leans forward, seemingly interested all of a sudden.

“Cassandra is already in,” Imogen reveals. “She’s had enough of Malcolm’s bullshit.”

“And Rafael? Owen?” Elliot presses.

“That’s our next step,” I say. “But we needed to know where you stand first.”

He snorts. “And I should trust you with this? You couldn’t even carry out a simple votum when it was required. Why would you have the stomach to take out Malcolm?”

If the question was coming from anyone else, I might consider it to be a valid one. But I’m fucking sick of his attitude, and I’m done letting him run his mouth recklessly in my fucking office. I step forward, getting right in his face. “I didn’t kill Celine because she didn’t deserve to die. Malcolm let me live because it suited him, not out of mercy. He changed the rules of the Syndicate on a whim. And you were mad because he made you look weak.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls.

“Tell me I’m wrong. He publicly demanded your votum be carried out, then changed his mind when it benefited him, and made your demand look meaningless. Then he wouldn’t even let you take revenge.”

Elliot’s face flushes with anger, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. But I’m not fucking finished yet.

“You like being Malcolm’s bitch?” I ask, basically taunting him now. “You enjoy following his orders, doing his dirty work while he reaps the benefits?”

“Quinn,” Imogen warns, but it’s too late.

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