Page 98 of Thunder's Reckoning
I let her.
I let her believe it. I let her think she’d worked her way into something bigger than herself.
Then I struck.
My hand cracked across her face, burning and final. The sound split the room like gunfire. She staggered back, clutching her cheek, eyes wide, lipstick smeared across her skin.
“You were useful,” I said, my voice flat, cold. “Don’t confuse that with loyal.”
Her breath hitched, shock twisting her features. “I—I did everything you asked.”
“And you thought that made you special,” I said, stepping closer. “You confuse spreading your legs with loyalty. That might work on weak men, but not me. Flesh is cheap. Loyalty? Fear? Those are priceless.”
Her mouth trembled. “Please—”
“Please?” I stepped closer, my words deliberate, ritualistic, “I smell corruption in you. Lust. Vanity. Ego. You mistake flesh for faith. You believe a man fucking you is devotion. That is not worship. That is rot.”
“I gave you Sable—”
I cut her off with a tilt of my head, voice sharpened to a blade. “You gave me nothing. She was always mine. You merely played courier.”
The truth hollowed her from within. I saw it in her eyes.
“I have seen women like you all my life,” I continued, my voice lowering to a sermon’s cadence. “Painted lips, hollow hearts, bodies bartered like coins at the gates of fire. You think flesh redeems. But flesh is dust. Dust to dust. It is purity that sanctifies.”
Her mouth opened, closed. That hollow look hit her face, the one that shows when someone realizes they were never holding the cards.
“You said you’d protect me,” she tried again, desperate now. “You promised—”
“I don’t promise,” I snapped. “I take. I use. And when I’m done, I don’t owe a fucking thing.”
The office door opened. Two men stepped inside, rifles slung, eyes flat.
Leena spun toward them, panic flooding her voice. “Wait! Please—I can still be useful. I can do more—”
I turned away, straightening my jacket, already done with her.
“Take out the trash,” I said. Then I paused, my voice low, final. “Put her with the other flesh downstairs.”
Her scream ripped through the room, shrill and broken, as they grabbed her. Heels scraped marble, nails clawed wood, voice cracked into begging. They dragged her out, her curses collapsing into sobs until the door slammed and silence swallowed the sound.
I stood over the desk, eyes on the maps, lines drawn, territories marked. Money routes. Gun shipments. Names ofmen who thought they could step out of line. All of it under my hand.
Sable was still mine. Always had been. And soon, she’d remember.
Because in my world, nothing you think you own is really yours. Unless you’re me.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
WE’D TORN HALFthe damn town apart by the timethe sun dragged itself over the rooftops, spillin’ light across streets that still stank of last night’s sins. The asphalt was damp, trash still scattered from bar fights that went too late, but we searched it all. No stone unturned. No alley left unchecked.
Strip clubs where the neon never died, burnin’ holes in the eyes of men who never saw daylight. Motels where the sheets were filthier than the cash changin’ hands. Dens and dives Leena once crawled through like vermin in stilettos. We rode hard into every shadow she might’ve slithered into after she decided to play rat.
After leadin’ them to my family.
The truth had spread through the city like blood through water, quiet at first, then undeniable once fists loosened lips. It hadn’t just been Gabrial’s men stormin’ that house. No, they’d been walked right to it. Leena had opened the door for them.
Revenge—that was her poison. She hadn’t forgiven me for shovin’ her out, for refusin’ to keep her around when she started crossin’ lines. She wanted the patch. She wanted me. I gave her nothin’. I remembered her face when I told her to get the hell out—her lipstick smeared, her eyes sparkin’ hate she thought I didn’t see.
