Page 39 of Jayson
“Ah.” He folds his arms. Muscles ripple under the suit. “And how’s the loose end with the sprained ankle?”
The question lands like a weight. I keep my face blank. “Contained.”
Kanyan’s brow lifts. “Contained can mean many things. What does the word mean to you?”
“The situation is under control.”
Kanyan exhales through his nose, half amusement, half irritation. “Leverage bleeds, Jayson. Sometimes it bleeds on your shoes. Why does she have an injury?”
“She jumped out of a window.”
If there’s one thing I won’t ever do with this man, it’s lie. Because he’d see right through me. A man like Kanyan De Scarzi deserves my integrity…and honesty. Plus, lying is the one trait I hate more than any other.
A quiet beat stretches. The fire pops behind us.
“I trust your instincts, Caluna,” Kanyan says at last. “But instincts don’t outrank orders. Mason’s worried the girl becomes a liability. I have to say, Ghost’s vote to bury her was simpler.”
I already knew where Ghost stood, but hearing that my direct boss shares the same opinion hits different—sharp, personal. It grates in a way that says he doesn’t trust my judgment. Like all the shit I’ve done, all the blood I’ve spilled in their name, still isn’t enough to earn me that courtesy.
“And what’s your stance on the matter?” I ask him.
“She tried to run,” he reminds me.
Yeah. That part, I haven’t forgotten. But what hits harder isthe fact that he even knows that. Only three people know what goes on inside this house. I can account for myself. Keira sure as hell doesn’t have a hotline to Kanyan De Scarzi. Which leaves only one option.Nina.
The thought knots something deep in my gut. No. That can’t be right. Nina doesn’t even know Kanyan. Doesn’t move in his world. Doesn’t belong to it. But still… the possibility crawls under my skin like a splinter I can’t quite dig out.
Kanyan leans in slightly—just enough to drop his voice. “Talk to me, Jayson. Off the record. Is she worth the mess?”
Images flash—Keira’s defiant stare, the tremor she hides, the way she almost smiled when I called her mouthy.
“I thought the code was ironclad,” I say quietly, meaning the rule we were all inducted on—no women, no kids. No innocents.
Kanyan watches my face for a long, silent moment, reading the cracks even I pretend aren’t there. Finally he nods once.
“It is. But there are exceptions to every rule.”
It feels like the ground gives out beneath me—like I’m free falling through a moment I didn’t see coming. My chest tightens, lungs forgetting how to pull in air as his words ricochet around my skull, no rhythm, no order—just chaos.
There are exceptions.
I hear it again. And again. And again.
Because that’s what this is. A test. A leash with slack I wasn’t expecting. He’s not telling me what to do—he’s letting me choose.
There are exceptions to every rule.
And I get to decide if she’s one of them.
Keira Bishop. The girl I should’ve killed the moment I found her. She wound up locked in my basement instead. And now I have to make the call. Keep her… or end it.
Is she worth the noise, the risk, the attention we will draw ifthis thing spirals? Or do I snuff her out like every other liability I’ve dealt with before?
The weight of the decision coils in my stomach like a rusted blade, dull and cruel. Tainted.
Because if I say yes—if I claim her—then she’s my liability, my responsibility in every way that matters. The future of the empire these men have built lays squarely on my shoulder.
And if I say no… then I have to live with her blood on my hands.
