Page 147 of The Thief
"Then I'm going to kill him. Slowly."
She nods, understanding. In our world, betrayal has only one punishment. Jason signed his death warrant the moment he took Trace's money.
"Just... when you find him, when you're deciding how he dies... remember what you promised me."
"What?"
"That you'd let me pull you back if you go too far."
I look at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. She's not asking me to spare Jason—she knows that's impossible. She's asking me not to lose myself in the revenge.
"I remember."
"Good. Because I need you to come back to me whole, not broken by hatred."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
But even as I say it, I can feel something dark unfurling in my chest. Jason's betrayal cuts deeper than Marcus' ever could. Marcus was Henry's man, so I always kept my distance. But Jason was family. Chosen family. The kind that's supposed to matter more than blood.
And he threw it all away for money.
When I find him, when I get my hands on him, I'm going to make sure he understands exactly what that betrayal cost. Every life lost, every operation blown, every moment of trust he violated.
He's going to pay for all of it.
In blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
freddie
We find Jason at his flat in Temple Bar, packing a bag like he's planning a holiday instead of running for his life.
The door's unlocked when we arrive, which should have been our first warning. Jason's many things, but careless isn't one of them. He knows we're coming.
"Jason." I push through the door first, gun drawn, Maverick close behind me.
He doesn't even look up from his suitcase, just keeps folding clothes with methodical precision, like this is any other Tuesday evening.
"Freddie. Maverick." His voice is calm, resigned. "Took you long enough."
"Going somewhere?"
"I was. Until I realized there's nowhere left to run."
The flat is sparse but functional. Not much personality in the decor, which makes sense now. Hard to get attached to a place when you're planning to disappear.
"Hands where we can see them," Maverick orders.
Jason complies without resistance, spreading his fingers, showing us he's not armed. Smart move, considering we're about two seconds away from putting bullets in him anyway.
"You know why we're here," I say.
"Yeah. I know."
