Page 96 of Jayson
Fuck.
A faint hum escapes me, low and thoughtful. Just enough to buy a beat, to line my tone with neutrality even as something cold scratches at the back of my skull.
“What about him?”
Emilio exhales like he’s weighing the shape of his words. Like this part of the conversation was scripted, revised, and rehearsed with care.
“There’s been… interest,” he says slowly. “Questions, murmurs. A party from out of town has taken notice of your rookie’s recent extracurriculars. Particularly the incident involving a young woman who, from what I gather, was no longer supposed to exist.”
My grip tightens on the pen.
“You’ll need to be more specific,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “I assume you’re not calling to read me headlines.”
“I’m not,” Emilio agrees. “I’m calling because this party—well, let’s say he’s not the sort of man who likes being… robbed.”
The silence that follows is sharp enough to draw blood.
I lean forward, elbows on the desk, jaw working. “Who exactly thinks my man took something that belongs to him?”
There’s the pause I expected. Barely a breath. Then he gives me a name.
“A man by the name of Richard Maddox.”
The name lands—soft on impact, but unmistakably lethal. I don’t respond right away.
Richard Maddox.
“He claims Jayson interfered with a contractual arrangement,” Emilio continues. “And that the woman in question was under his guardianship. He’s not pleased.”
Guardianship.That’s one way to dress up a cage.
“Has he made a formal complaint?” I ask.
Emilio chuckles, soft and dark. “No, my friend. Men like Maddox don’t bother with formalities. That’s why I’m calling. He asked for a meeting. He was… quite insistent.”
I say nothing, letting the name echo through my mind like a slow-counting bomb.
Who the fuck is Richard Maddox? And what the fuck does he want?
On the other end of the line, Emilio pauses just long enough to feel intentional. Like he’s watching me from somewhere I can’t see. Like he knows I’m already reaching for answers I don’t have.
“I believe Mr. Maddox is hoping for… clarity,” he says finally, the words as smooth as silk pulled too tight. “There’s been some confusion, perhaps a misunderstanding involving Caluna.”
My spine stiffens, but I don’t move.
“And what the hell does this have to do with you?” I bark.
“I’m only relaying what was conveyed to me,” Emilio replies, diplomatic as always. “But I thought it prudent to bring it to your attention before the situation… escalates.”
There it is. The shimmer of threat beneath the soft tone.
Not from Emilio—he’s not the type to get his hands dirty. But Maddox? I don’t know the man, but if he’s gone to the Cavalho brothers, I already know he’s the type to smile while lighting the match.
I reach forward, turn the volume on the speaker down a notch. My thoughts are louder than the call now.
Richard Maddox wants a sit-down. And Emilio’s smoothing the path like it’s a favor. Like it’s a courtesy.
But nothing in this world comes free. Especially not favors. And I owe him nothing.
