5. ~Caspian~

I couldn't stop staring at the infamous ring as I held it on the flat of my palm.

Sterling silver. A rare black gemstone that had sustained more than its fair share of scratches over the years. An eagle engraved in either side. It was a thick, heavy piece of jewelry.

In more ways than one.

I'd never thought I'd set eyes on it again.

Jameson King's ring.

My father.

I hadn't seen it in years, since it had last graced his hand.

He'd told me when I was a kid that the eagle was a symbol of power, control, strength and courage. They also had sharp vision which enabled them to see what very few others could. The ring was a reminder for him to live up to that. It was how he'd had to be as the ruler of King. Now that I'd taken his place, I understood that on every level.

I snatched up the manilla envelope it had been delivered in this morning.

The only thing scrawled across it had been a single sentence.

Property of Caspian King.

There'd been no other markings, not even postage, making it clear it had been hand-delivered to my office this morning. Not to my assistant, Daria, either. Mail was usually sorted by her before reaching me, but I'd found this already on my desk a couple of hours before she'd started work today.

After all these years, I couldn't believe I now had my father's ring in my possession. It had been lost for so long that I'd believed it to have been gone forever.

I'd let it go, just like I'd let a lot of things go.

But seeing this now, holding it in my hand, a true piece of my father, it was hard to hold firm to that.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, placing the ring down, and opening my bottom drawer. I pulled out my bottle of bourbon, screwed off the top, and took a large gulp, relishing the burn as it bathed my throat.

My phone rang as I went in for a second gulp.

I snatched it up absently, fortunately possessing the well-tuned instinct to actually check the call display before I answered.

Blocked Number.

I frowned. Well, that was just a tad ominous.

I braced myself and took the call. "King."

"Long time, mio fratello."

My fingers clenched around my phone.

I'd recognize that voice anywhere at any time.

Dante Mancini.

The head of the Mancini Syndicate. He was a man feared by many, ruthless, merciless, and not somebody you wanted to be on the bad side of.

But I'd never been one to play by anybody else's rules.

I didn't know fear either.

But I did know rage when it came to him.

I'd spent years looking into my parents' supposed accident, an accident that had claimed both their lives and the life of Wayne Thorn, Sebastian's father. With the resources at my back via King, two things had become clear during my research. It hadn't been an accident as it had been ruled, it had been a hit and Dante Mancini was my chief suspect.

"I'm not your brother," I gritted out.

"Well, perhaps my gift will see to it that we are no longer enemies at the very least."

My eyes shot to the ring. "You sent it?"

"Your father always intended you to have it."

"Don't presume to know my father's intentions."

"I knew them better than anyone."

"Allowing you so close was his fatal mistake."

"You refusing to allow anyone in will be yours. Allies are vital in our line of work."

"Is that a threat?"

"A wakeup call, Caspian. You have come a long way and accomplished much, but you are still young. Your inability to trust and form alliances makes you vulnerable."

"Your overt friendliness reeks of desperation, Mancini."

Word had clearly reached him of the moves I was making against him.

"The war you're preparing to rage is needless and misguided. I am not the man you seek. I would never have harmed your father under any circumstances. He was an ally and one of my closest friends. Family in fact."

"The evidence tells another story."

"I am aware. It seems indisputable, yet, it's been manufactured."

I scoffed. "You're telling me you were framed?"

"Indeed."

"Obtaining his ring is just more proof that it was you. How else would you have gained access to it unless you were there that night and stole it off his fucking corpse?"

"I retrieved it from Elijah Bane."

I stilled.

At my shocked silence, he went on, "Well, retrieved it is an understatement. Moving heaven and earth would be more accurate. That is what I was prepared to do for you to demonstrate that we are far from being enemies."

"If he had it all these years, then–"

"He collects trophies of his coups. That ring was one of them, one he cherished above all else, seeing as though he'd believed at the time that he'd actually destroyed King. Of course, he didn't anticipate your ability and wherewithal to not only save that legacy, but to transcend what your father had accomplished several times over."

He was laying it on thick.

Accusing Elijah Bane of being the architect of my parents' murders was a whole other level.

And smart.

Extremely smart.

It was well-known that Bane had become my major competitor over the last year, and a slimy one at that, a real underhanded bastard. He and his multinational conglomerate, Bane Industries, was the same to Mancini. Me turning my attention to Bane would benefit him and the Mancini Syndicate greatly. We'd have a chief enemy in common, which would force an alliance between us.

It was also true that the war I was preparing to wage against Mancini would hurt King. It was a hurt that the empire could survive, but it would be a painful hit to absorb, nonetheless. It would cost a lot. Bane was a different story, especially given that Mancini also had him in his sights. It would be much easier to contain the fallout.

"I don't act on rumors," I told him.

"You should not act on falsified evidence either."

"There is nothing pointing to it being falsified, except for your word."

"My word counts for a great deal."

"Not to me." I grimaced as I found myself adding, "Not yet."

"Yet? That bodes well."

"What you're claiming makes logical sense. Bane would have had the resources, the opportunity and the motive. You were lacking the latter."

"Without a doubt. As I have explained, your father and I were close. Brothers bonded by something greater than blood. Something not known to you, I'm aware, due to the need for our relationship to remain covert, given who I am."

"The closest of friends can become enemies with the right motivation."

"The ring is a peace offering."

"You mean a stalling tactic?"

"Call it that if you wish. But know this: I am obtaining proof that Bane ordered that hit on your parents and Wayne Thorn. However, it will take time. Stand down until then. I do not want war with you. I don't want to hurt Jameson's heir. Nor do I wish for unnecessary bloodshed. I want justice. I know you desire the same, so believe me when I tell you, I am not it. Sometimes true justice takes time, but it's always worth it. As it will be when Bane is forced to answer for his crimes against us both."

"We have a deal."

"Excellent. I'll be in touch."

"I'll be waiting."

With that, I ended the call and slumped back in my desk chair.

That had been a lot to absorb.

The ramifications were intense.

If Bane was responsible for their murders, there would be hell to pay.

Blood would flow and it would never fucking stop if I got my way.

Forget justice, I'd exact a brutal form of vengeance beyond his darkest imagination.

I'd destroy him and everything he loved.

A knock at the door had me jolting from my depraved thoughts.

"Come in, Daria."

As the door opened, my Executive Assistant stepped into the room. Well, swept in was more accurate.

I registered the folder in her hand and smiled. "Right on schedule."

She arched an eyebrow. "On schedule? Never. Ahead of schedule by several minutes."

I chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

She opened the folder and placed it down in front of me. "The Hessfield contracts, Mr. King. All ready to go, containing everything you asked for, including that nifty little caveat."

A clause that would protect King, come what may.

You could never be too careful.

That was something that had become immediately apparent to me with the state of the company when I'd taken control. It would never fall into that hole again. Not while I drew breath.

"I have no doubt you'll take your time reviewing them. Just know that we need to close by the end of the business day."

"I'm well aware."

"Of course, Sir."

As I went to do just that, I found her hovering, instead of following her usual protocol of popping in to deliver what I needed, or providing updates on this and that, then making herself scarce so I could concentrate. Time was precious day in and day out, I couldn't afford to waste away time with lags of any sort.

"What is it?" I asking, glancing up at her from the documents.

And why was she hesitating?

That wasn't her.

I took her in, wringing her hands in front of one of her go-to pantsuits—this one a beige number. Her pageboy haircut, a mousy brown that was the complete opposite of her bold and no-nonsense personality. Caleb had gotten it right on the money when he'd called her a tough cookie. It was the essence of the woman through and through. She balanced that very well with her professionalism in all things too.

"There's an unscheduled visitor insisting on seeing you. I've already turned him away twice and he's refused to leave." She quirked her lips. "I've had him sitting in the lobby of King Tower for ninety minutes."

"That long before you brought it to my attention?"

"It's Damien Thorn."

Well, that explained her demeanor.

And the little timeout she'd given him.

He was known for going into any situation hot, so he'd earned a cool down period. It would do that temper of his good. And his severely overly-inflated ego.

"Send him in."

"As you wish."

We exchanged a nod, then she went on her way.

While I was waiting for her to have him summoned from the lobby and escorted up to the top of King Tower, my phone buzzed with a text notification.

I swiped it open to see a communication from my Head of Security.

Luke: Intel points to Bane's people planning to interfere with Transport 8A3.

King: Reroute as per the specs I laid out. Send a decoy with a welcoming committee to their intercept point along original route.

Luke: Copy that.

I locked my phone and slid it into the inside pocket of my black Armani suit, just as Damien was escorted into my office by a member of building security and under the extra watchful eye of Daria.

I gave a nod and they filtered out, closing the door behind them.

Damien shoved a hand through his unruly shaggy brown hair, his eyes flashing my way. "Finally. Did you have a laugh keeping me waiting like some common shit, King?"

"I didn't give it much thought."

"Is that right?"

"I had other pressing matters to concern myself with, not your impromptu drop-in."

He hissed. "It wouldn't have been impromptu if you'd returned any of my texts."

"They were redundant."

"What?"

"The matter is already closed."

"The hell it is." He gestured at the door behind him. "And why did you let me in here if that's the case?"

When all he got from me was a glare, he stormed up to my desk and slapped his palms down on the ornate walnut.

"This is fucking bullshit," he seethed. "You can't just cut me out!"

He wasn't making the point he thought he was. Believing my decision to be unjust was a far cry from the reality of the situation. Then again, that was him, especially lately. Teetering too far from the line between reality and twisted falsity.

His easily unchecked aggression was just driving home how unsuited he'd become to our nightly operations.

"Sit. Down."

He tensed at my command, resisting at first as always. He was a hardcore alpha male and taking orders from anyone flew in the face of that.

But his resistance was fleeting, and he submitted to me, albeit with an agitated grunt, crossing to one of the chairs and slumping down onto it.

He sucked in a breath in a bid to calm himself and then managed to speak in a somewhat calmer tone. "Look, I know I overdid it on that last op, but it was one fuck-up. I was just off that night. It doesn't mean I can't—"

"It wasn't merely one out-of-character misstep, Damien. Your actions had been building to a cataclysm and despite Bastian's attempts to reel you in, you continued to lose control every time you were out in the field. Your bloodlust drove your every action, superseding rational thought, commonsense, and the collective good of us all. You almost compromised us entirely."

"Look, I need—"

"That's just it. You've come to need it. And for the wrong reasons. It's become a dangerous addiction. It's not about justice to you. You're carrying out a dark and twisted reckoning and I won't allow you to use us to accomplish that and feed your baser desires. Take that to the underground fighting circuits, or to Obscura. They can accommodate those needs."

"It's not the same." He paused for a moment. "Hold up? Obscura… was that an invitation to join you at your favored sex club? Oh, I'm sorry… private lifestyle club?"

"We're not sexually compatible."

"How would you know? You've always spurned my interest because you didn't want to muddy the waters with Seb being your best friend and my little brother."

"I only top, Damien."

"Sometimes you let Caleb top you."

"That's different. The way it occurs is different, very specific, and a unique situation that can't be replicated."

"I call bullshit," he said, his gaze raking over me in a none-too-subtle eye-fucking.

That was him through and through. Utterly brazen and brash. Very little restraint. It didn't rub well with somebody like me—or Bastian who had undergone an almost debilitating battle with control a couple of years back. It was another reason why I'd removed Damien from our nightly operations. Seeing that up close, Damien being in that headspace where consequences didn't exist, where everything was a free-for-all and he was unleashed, it was a temptation for Bastian. It was rubbing salt into wounds that had barely healed, wounds that would, in all likelihood, never actually heal in their entirety.

Damien slicked his tongue over his bottom lip and spread his thighs as he looked at me through hooded eyes.

"I'm sure we can work something out, King."

"I'm sure that we can't."

He sneered, never one to take any sort of rejection well, and moved to speak, to argue his futile point further.

But I held up my hand, my eyes flashing. "It's done."

He wanted it too much from me, serving to only highlight his desperation to feed that addiction further. If he couldn't veer off this dangerous path he'd set out on, I'd have to take action against him. It would mean a hell of a lot more than merely reeling him in and cutting him out of our nightly operations.

It would mean putting him down, something Bastian and I had an agreement about, something he'd beseeched me long ago to not do, no matter the circumstances.

It wasn't always easy when it came to Damien Thorn.

At my age of twenty-three, he was a year older than Caleb, and two years older than Bastian, but immaturity levels were off the charts with Damien, compared to them. Staggeringly so sometimes.

And if he continued in this vein, I'd have to break my vow to Bastian.

I saw him gritting his teeth, not liking the shutdown from me.

He shifted his weight, sitting forward in the chair as he said, "Funny you should utter your go-to shutdown phrase at me, because that's exactly what my little brother used the other day in the Luxe lot to stop me. He invoked you. Your orders, apparently."

"Correct."

"And?"

"And what?"

"I want to know what's up with the girl. Skylar Bennett."

"In what context?"

"What do you think? Why did you order hands off?"

"Bastian called me when they arrived on scene to see you clashing with her."

Lies.

"She disrespected me, tried to dominate me, and publicly humiliated me in the process, and you gave the order for me to stand down and—what—just fucking take it? I want to know why, King. Was it punishment for my fuck-up? Was it you making it brutally clear that I'm out of the inner circle now and this is the treatment I can expect going forward?"

"Your actions a few weeks back risked compromising our covert operations. The last thing any of us wanted was you drawing negative attention to yourself, or Bastian and us by association."

"You're saying it was all about me making a scene?" He frowned for a moment, and then his eyes sparked with that look of malice that had caused me far too many headaches over the years. "So, if I go after her in the dark of night and teach her that lesson I was robbed of dealing out, that'll be fine with you? I mean, if it was just about drawing unwanted public attention, it should be cool, right?"

Insolent little shit.

"You're so focused on who her mother is, because of the feud with yours that you've neglected to take to heart who her father is."

"Some former soldier? I know all about it actually. So what?"

"You don't know all. He's ex-Special Forces and he's also connected."

"Connected to who? Because I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, would hesitate to hit at somebody for anything, any obstacle, least of all the connections they have. You have the means to steamroll over anyone."

That was his ignorant view of how I dealt with things, how I operated.

But even trying to school him on the intricacies of it all was pointless. He simply wasn't wired that way. He was far too reactionary for that, all aggression and instant gratification.

"It's a balancing act, Damien."

He frowned again, thinking it all over.

"So, it's just some business you have with her old man, or people he's connected to. It's not about her?"

"Why would it be? She's a twenty-year-old former design student. She's not a power player, nor was she when she resided here beforehand, not even a blip on the radar."

"All right then." He blew out a breath and cracked his neck. "Yeah, you know, I was really riled up that day. Her being new to Luxe and coming back to this place after being away a while, she was probably just on the defensive and picked up on that from me, must've just had her reacting unusually harshly and out of character. I mean, she did partially apologize. She's just a girl, inconsequential. Going after her will make me look petty and pathetic, given she's a nobody." He rose to his feet. "It's done, yeah. Yeah, I'll let it go."

I kept my eyes on his, but in my peripheral vision, I noted his right fist clenching and unclenching.

His tell.

The little fucker was lying.

Playing the game, I smiled and pushed to my feet, rounding my desk to him.

"Glad to hear it." I held out my hand. "No hard feelings concerning me removing you from the team? You understand my reasoning and that it's in your best interests now?"

"Yeah, I've got it," he said, taking my hand. "I know you're just looking out for me. Seb's important to you, makes his family under your care and protection too."

"Absolutely."

He shook my hand, puffing out his chest and stretching to his full height in the process, trying to match my naturally commanding air.

All right, it was closer to intimidation.

And warranted.

Very much so for this duplicitous and unhinged bastard, who was only growing more of both of late.

"Now," I said, grasping his nape and bringing him right up close, and hearing his breath hitch just as I'd anticipated. "Pay a visit to Obscura. Take the edge off. Your night is on me."

I stroked the shoulders of his white hoodie with all the golden embroidery, tracing my fingers over the weaving snakes. A serene moan escaped him, before he murmured peacefully, "All special privileges? The cream of the crop?"

"That's right."

"Thank you, King."

"Of course," I said, releasing him and stepping back.

He stared at me for a moment, clearly trying to determine if my accommodating responses were genuine. It was well-known that I didn't tolerate disrespect or challenge to my final word on things and he'd demonstrated both since walking into my office. Into my fucking domain.

I ensured he didn't get anything from me, that all he saw was what I wanted him to—the pretense, what he needed to see in order to be kept in line.

"All right, I'm gonna head out then, take you up on your offer. Thanks for seeing me and all that."

"No worries. Enjoy your evening."

With a chin lift, he left, and I heard Daria and security guiding him out a moment later.

I clenched my fists and sucked in a centering breath, wiping that faux smile off my face.

All that remained was a glare, the vehemence of it threatening to burn a hole through the fucking door.

It wasn't my forte, nor my preferred way of handling things to placate a potential threat.

I was Ruin.

I wiped all obstacles and dangers off the board in one fell swoop without hesitation.

I decimated.

And it had started to bother me more so with each passing day that I had my hands tied when it came to Damien Thorn.

If he went around me, if he acted out again, and threatened to compromise what I was currently working on, I'd run right through all of that.

I'd put him down.

I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Luke.

King: Activate Damien Thorn's tracer. Monitor continuously.

Luke: Consider it done.

Unbeknownst to Damien, his altercation with the girl had assisted with my overarching strategy concerning her.

It had unnerved her and jolted her from her reverie of attempted normalcy. It had put her on edge. She hadn't been able to relax into her new role at Luxe. It had thrown up an obstacle to allowing her to become that which she intended, that which I couldn't allow.

But I couldn't have the unhinged Thorn brother involved beyond that.

Especially considering my plans for her.

Given the content of Mancini's call, it was even more vital that those plans reached fruition.

And I wouldn't allow anything to get in the way of that.