Page 88 of The Vagabond

That’s why I killed her.

Our mother.

She wasn’t sick. Or dying. She wasn’t even sorry. She wascruel. Calculated. Wicked in a way that corrupted everything she touched—including her own sons. She orchestrated our deaths like it was just another day on her damn calendar. Thought she’d finally cut the leash she’d kept on us our whole lives.

But we cut deeper.

We knew her game. So we played it better. Let the world think we were dead. Burned everything behind us. And when we crawled out of the grave she dug for us?

I drove a knife straight through her heart. Watched her gasp. Watched the betrayal flash in her eyes. Like I owed her something more than what she gave me—manipulation, scars, a childhood spent learning how to bleed without crying.

She would’ve killed my unborn child if I hadn’t done it. Slit its throat in the womb just to spite me. That’s the kind of woman she was.

So yeah. I killed her. And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

Because any man who can look past the sentimentality of blood and do what needs to be done? That man doesn’t just fix problems—he prevents them.

And ever since we buried her, my brothers and I have breathed freer. Slept easier. We’re untouchable. Unshaken. We can’t be fucked with. No more chokehold around our throats. No more whispered threats at family dinners. Just power, clean and sharp.

Which brings me back to today.

I study the man standing across from my desk, arms stiff at his sides like he’s trying to prove a point. Agent Saxon North. Black suit. Eyes like steel handcuffs. And yet, there's something about him that feels... feral.

He’s not here because he wants to be.

He’s here because ofher.

Maxine Andrade.

Now, there’s a twist I didn’t see coming.

The Fed clears his throat like he’s about to choke on his own breath. “The only way to protect her is to keep her away from the Feds.”

I arch a brow. “You are aware that you are a Fed, right?”

He says nothing. Just stares, jaw clenched as he bites back his response. That silence? It tells me everything I need to know. He’s not speaking as a Federal agent right now. He’s speaking as a man. A man who’s tangled up in something dirty and dangerous.

I lean back in my chair and flip open my silver cigarette case. Allegra’s going to skin me alive for this. I promised her I was done. Swore it in bed one night when she had her head on my chest and her heart in my hands. But some habits are hard to kill. I light the cigarette and let the smoke settle around me like fog.

“You’re asking a lot, North.”

He meets my gaze. Doesn’t blink. Which is a good thing. I hate weakness in men who play in this world.

“She’s not safe. Not while my people are looking to use her as a way into the Aviary.”

I drag slow on the cigarette. “And you care why, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t need to. I see it written all over his face. The bastard’s gone soft for her. That’s a problem. Because when men fall for women in my world, they start making mistakes. They forget their loyalty. They forget who they are. And they forget what I am.

But I file that knowledge away for later. Right now, Maxine needs a safe place. And whether I trust Saxon North or not, his warning rings true. I can feel it in my bones. There’s a storm coming. And Maxine’s right in the eye of it.

So I nod. Slow. Final.

“I’ll uphold my end of the deal,” I say, voice cold as steel. “But you make damn sure you do the same.” I lean forward then, let him see what’s behind my eyes. Let him see what it means to come to me with a promise. “Because if Maxine Andrade dies on your watch, Agent North…” I take one last drag, let the smoke curl between us like a noose. I level my gaze, flat and unblinking. “I’ll erase every good intention you ever had. And I’ll bury you with all the others who didn’t listen.”

Saxon nods once—tight, clipped. It’s not respect, it’s understanding. He turns to go, jaw set, shoulders square. But I don’t miss it—the way his fingers twitch as he opens the door.

He leaves without another word. And the second the door clicks shut behind him, I feel the weight shift. Not off my shoulders. Deeper. Like something has tilted inside me.

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