Page 22 of Reverie

“Any of ours will be treated with respect,” I throw back at him, my voice low. A rasp.

So many fucking deaths.

“You have my word,” the pakhan says.

We’re all silent around the room until I break it.

“Fine. Morris Winthrope,” I say, changing the subject. “We get rid of him before anything else.”

Misha places his right hand flat on the table as if he were evaluating the surface, and then he taps his index finger on the woodgrain to a slow cadence.

“Let me ask you this, Hunter,” Luna says, leaning forward in her chair and steepling her hands beneath her chin. “Why do you think we haven’t gone after Morris Winthrope already?” Her flinty gaze seems a little unhinged, but I shrug anyway.

“Does it matter? It’s what we’re going to do now,” I reply, going for an unaffected tone.

“But itdoesfucking matter,” Luna grinds out. She drops her hands to the table, using her fingers to emphasize her next words. “Time, opportunity, and mass impact. We have one shot to do this, and failure is not an option. If we fail, we’re all fucked. So no, we’re not making a wave by offing someone as public and important to The Legion as Morris Winthrope. Not without having the rest of them, namely The Architect, in our grasp,” Luna says, hot emotion lacing each word.

“So you’re going to just let Morris Winthrope walk?” I spit each word at her.

Misha sighs. “No, Hunter. We will bring every Legion member down—including Winthrope. But we have to be smart about this. This is bigger than any one man.”

Every word he and Luna say serves to further enrage me, but I try to access some semblance of patience.

The reality is that if I plan on doinganythingto keep my family safe, I need the people sitting at the table across from me.

“Okay, so again, what’s your plan for getting them, then?” I close my eyes as I speak, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Hunter,” Misha says with a sigh. “You are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

I look up and frown at him. “What, for asking questions? You wantmeto work with you. Not the other way around.”

“Well, Brigham, if it weren’t for me—for us—saving you and giving you our resources, you and your woman would be a blood stain on the ground, your son would be a lab experiment, and your sister would be getting gang raped by Winthrope’s colleagues.”

I stand up so quickly that the chair tips over. Leo gets up as soon as I burst from the seat and places a hand on my chest.

“Easy, H,” he mumbles.

I can’t breathe through my fury. Taking in all the meditation tools Winter’s taught me, I breathe in to the count of three and exhale to the same cadence.

“Fuck off, Hroshko,” I grind out.

Good. I didn’t launch myself over the table to strangle him.

Out of my periphery, I note that Max sets my chair upright, and I grab it to sit back down.

But as soon as I land in the seat, my phone rings.

Unknown number

“Who the hell is that?” Leo asks, leaning over to glance at my phone screen. Misha moves to hover over my shoulder, but because I hate the fact that he lords over me, I stand to match his height.

“I think I know,” Misha mutters, and he gives a long glance to Luna. “Answer it.”

I press the button to pick up the call. I don’t greet the person on the other end, but I don’t have to. As soon as the call connects, Morris Winthrope’s voice echoes over the speakerphone.

“Hunter Brigham, you’ve surprised me,” he says. His tone is eerie, mechanical.

Evil.