Chapter 28

Wagner plays over my office’s sound system, and I sit back, enjoying the view of Roseboro after dark. Other than the lights from my sound system and the soft red glow above the door that beckons as if it’s the only exit strategy, the only light in the room is the dim glow of the lights filtering up from the city below, which is just how I like it.

I watch the white and red lights on the street below, people skittering this way and that as if their actions have any meaning. Perhaps in some small way, they do. A parent coming home to a child, a doctor going to work, things of that nature. But even then, it is a moment of time, a minor importance in the big scheme of life.

I focus my gaze closer, seeing my own reflection in the glass, and note my austere appearance, the power that surrounds me like a cloud of dominance. I stand taller, broader, luxuriating in my supremacy, my image making the same moves in return.

A legacy. That is something important. Something I will leave, even as I sit here in my tower, overlooking the pawns I move like a master.

Letting my eyes look further out, I cringe inwardly, anger burning deep in my stomach as I see the lights still visible in Goldstone’s abomination, glowing brightly like some happy little celebration of the young upstart’s arrogance.

I’m coming for you, Golden Boy.

I pick up the tablet in my lap and once again look over the photos I received today, my lips twitching as they try to lift into a smile. But smiles aren’t warranted yet. I have too many doubts about their authenticity and the man who sent them to me.

Besides, this is merely step one, intended to be an uncomfortable thorn in Goldstone’s side to make him focus elsewhere while I move on to step two. A diversionary tactic.

If this proves authentic, I wonder if Goldstone knows yet. Probably not, but I can still imagine the moment his data-hungry strumpet discovers that her best friend in the world is gone, the screams and tears she’ll let loose. I imagine Thomas comforting her, weakly focusing on her loss instead of keeping his eye on the prize.

His company.

When he’s distracted, I’ll move in and take back what is mine. My rightful place as the leader of this town. More than merely a king, but a creator, the one who designed everything from the infrastructure to the governmental minions who are in place because of my financial support.

I swipe to the next picture. The images are realistic, and on the surface are beautiful proof of her death, and I feel dark excitement bloom in my chest. I zoom in on a blood spatter on Miss Turner’s cheek, noting the already purple tint from Gabriel’s blow.

I’ll admit that I have had serious doubts that the well-regarded Fallen Angel was going to come through this time. He’d seemed rather caught in Isabella Turner’s web, but perhaps he’s a better actor than I’d given him credit for.

Ifhe’s authentic.

I watch the video again, enjoying the moment when Isabella realizes the monster she’s let in, see the confusion and fear dawning in her eyes.

And for just a moment, I do smile, letting myself celebrate a small victory and feeling excitement for what’s to come.

My office phone rings, and I turn around, picking up the private line. “Yes?”

“Sir . . . it’s Jericho.”

Just the man I was looking to hear from, for he holds the verdict on Gabriel’s actions. I lean back in my chair, setting the tablet aside. “What news do you have for me, Mr. Jericho?”

“Your concerns were correct. Jackson has been lying to you.”

My hand grips the phone tighter. So much for small victories. But I don’t let Jericho hear my disappointment or anger. “I see. And you are certain about this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine. Come to my office as soon as you’re in town.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll have options for you when I arrive.”

Jericho hangs up the line, and I pick the tablet back up to glance at the pictures again. Too good to be true, a false reproduction of the horror movie result I wished for.

I should’ve trusted my gut all along.

That a woman of so little importance is costing me this much in time, effort, and finances is ridiculous. I’m regretting not hiring a two-bit thug at this point, one that would’ve been completely expendable after the job was done. But my penchant for elegance in my revenge was too strong, and now I’m paying the price and past ready to move on to the aftermath of Isabella Turner’s death.

But a good strategist knows to keep forces in reserve, to build plans upon plans, with contingencies for every possible outcome. So Gabriel’s betrayal is not a crippling blow, but a new opportunity for bigger, bolder moves.

My lips twist wryly as I consider various ideas, from simple to complex, before deciding on a course of action.

He and Miss Turner will be the new assignment. It shall serve them right for their deception, and serve me well for my plans for Goldstone.

The fresh thought of his name makes my blood boil in my veins. Even without knowing it, he’s thwarting my plays. How can one man be so lucky?

I may not have Lady Luck on my side, but I have something far more beneficial, unfettered cruelty. And I’m all too willing to acquaint Goldstone with what a true leader of this city can do when he puts his mind, will, and pocketbook to work.

I squeeze the tablet in my hand tightly and then unleash my anger, the device flying through the air and hitting the glass.

I look over, seeing the lights of the city as a starburst effect through the shatter. They add highlight and shadow to my refracted image, giving me a monstrously hideous appearance.

“You have no idea what’s coming for you, Golden Boy. But I do. I have so many plans for us.”