Page 50 of Deadmen's Queen

I fought back the bile rising in my throat.

“It was a strategic challenge,” I managed to say, the words feeling like shards of glass in my mouth. “But our teams are well trained, and we didn’t lose a single man on the job. At least two third of the team were local, which we always find is extremely beneficial. All our branches recruit locally, especially in Africa and Russia.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Kozlov said, his thick accent wrapping around the word like barbed wire. “Tough environments breed tough men.”

Tough or broken. I swallowed hard, nodding mechanically while father beamed with pride. Tough men didn't flinch from their fathers. They didn't wish they could disappear into the shadows like a wraith.

“Nate here oversaw the Johannesburg office for three months last year,” Father said. “This summer, I’ll have him in Moscow for a few months, and by then I think he’ll be ready to lead a team of his own.”

“So soon?” asked Kolzov. “What’s his kill number?”

“Twelve officially,” said my father, smiling at me, “but we’ve had a few cage fighting incidents we’ve had to deal with, haven’t we son?”

I gritted my teeth and nodded, as my father casually chatted about one of the worst periods of my life to a colleague.

“Had a bit of a temper when he was younger,” my father continued. “But he’s learned to leash the beast as we say.”

Kozlov nodded. “I’ve heard the stories of the Beast. I hope I can catch a fight while in the country.”

“That would be our pleasure,” my father said. “I’m sure we could arrange one for next week, couldn’t we, Nate?”

I nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Would you excuse me?” I detached myself from father's hold. I couldn't withstand another second of his touch.

“Where do you think you're going?” Father's voice was deceptively calm, but I knew better.

“Call of nature,” I lied. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with power plays and silent threats. Every moment in this house scratched at old wounds, left me raw and exposed.

“Be quick,” he said, his eyes sharp as knives. “We have much to discuss and many clients to speak to.”

“Of course.” I nodded, but barely concealed the tremor in my voice.

Walking away, I felt their gazes boring into my back, heavy with unspoken judgments. I needed space, a moment to breathe without the weight of the Syndicate suffocating me. But I knew too well that defiance was not an option. Not unless I was willing to pay the price.

I escaped to the fringes of the room, the clinking of glasses and low rumble of conversation a dull roar in my ears. I was a shadow among vultures, an interloper in my father's den of mercenaries and monsters. I wasn’t the only one who felt out of place here.

A few moments after I had escaped my father, Bast appeared at my side.

“How are you doing, Nate?”

“Been better,” I muttered, knocking back the double brandy. I’d been here an hour and it was my fourth of the night so far.

“Carver had you doing the rounds too? My Dad’s had me talking to every high ranking Syndicate agent we’ve seen so far.”

“Think we’ve barely scratched the surface,” I said. “Father wants me leading a team once we’ve graduated, and he’s already pimping me out.”

I’d known it was coming. Bast was being set up to run the Syndicate eventually, and Tristan would inherit his father’s tech company. Me, I would serve as my father’s right hand, providing bodyguards and mercenaries to the rich and morally black, but first, I’d need to prove myself. My father served for forty years in the army, including black ops. He didn’t want me confined by rules, so I’d need to get my field experience through the company. I’d already been on several teams, gaining experience, and I hated it. The violence was sickening, and the nightmares and panic attacks were always worse for months afterwards.

My last excursion had been in Johannesburg in the summer, and it had been a fucking bloodbath. I’d killed three men, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What was worse, was that when I was out there, with blood on my hands, I felt good. Violence, killing, it silenced the demons in my head, and I was good at it. And that scared the hell out of me.

Bast knew what I did, what I had to do for my father, but he didn’t know about that. We were close, so close, and I trusted him with my life, but some things were too dark to see mirrored in your brother’s eyes.

I held up my empty glass, signalling to a server, and they brought me a new one in a matter of minutes. Their service was good, quick and intelligent, and we’d probably bring them in for events again.

“Did you ever wonder what life would be like, if we could choose it?” I asked quietly, once the server had left.

Bast nodded. “All the time.”

“What would you do?” I asked. “If you weren’t… you.”