Page 76 of Property of Bones

“Agreed.”

“You’ll sign a contract, drawn up by my lawyer, outlining every stipulation. Trial basis. One year.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Muerte says, voice still calm, though his eyes glint like he’s chewing glass.

“You clean up Billy’s mess. All of it. Find his distributors, his buyers, and get that fucking drug off my streets.”

He nods once. “He was reckless. A grunt. I should’ve handled him sooner.”

“You’ll also make a generous donation to the families of those who died because of that reckless little grunt,” Spike adds. “All of them.”

Muerte tilts his head, then shrugs. “Of course.”

Spike doesn’t blink. “And I get Max.”

That one lands.

Muerte stills.

Across the table, Max finally shows a flicker of life…his jaw tightening, just a tick, but it’s there.

Muerte’s smile wavers. “Max is… useful.”

“He’s not yours,” Spike says, voice like a loaded gun. “He’s a Shadow. You want passage? You give him back.”

A tense beat passes before Muerte speaks again, voice quieter now. “He came to me willingly.”

“I don’t care if he tap-danced his way into your compound singing mariachi songs,” Spike snaps. “He’sours.”

Silence thickens.

Max stares straight ahead, unreadable. That damn blank expression he’s worn since walking in hasn’t cracked once.

But everyone in the room can feel it. This isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

“I’m aware of his past with you,” Muerte says, folding his hands calmly on the table. “However, he now belongs toLos Fantasmas.If that is your stipulation, then I’m afraid I’ll haveto pass. As efficient as this would have been for me and my men, losing Max simply isn’t worth it.”

“What?” Knuckles sneers, leaning forward with a sharp grin. “Is he your fuck toy or something?”

Muerte laughs. A cold, mirthless sound that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Al contrario,” he says smoothly. “Max is an asset. One I paid for in blood and loyalty. He knows my routes. My contacts. My secrets. Releasing him would be…negligent.”

“Funny,” Spike says, voice steel-wrapped fury. “Because keeping him could befatal.”

Muerte’s smile doesn’t waver, but the air thickens with unspoken threats. Max doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. He just sits there like a statue. Stone-faced, silent, and still.

“You can have everything else you’ve asked for. I’ll even throw in a very hefty monthly payment for the passage. Five thousand a month just to travel for a few hours across your territory. They’ll drive the long way back.” Muerte says after a long pause. “Or you can have Max. But not both.”

Spike doesn’t answer right away.

He leans back in his chair, arms resting on the sides. His face? Blank. Calm. That kind of calm that only comes before something explodes.

He doesn’t look at Muerte.

He looks atus.

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