King of Envy: Chapter 39

Jordan was asleep when I arrived, so I waited by his side until his eyes finally cracked open. The nurses had protested before they found out who I was and how much money I donated to the hospital every year. After that, they left me alone.

Fortunately, Jordan woke up not long after, so I wasn’t stuck staring at him from an uncomfortable plastic chair all day.

He blinked up at me, his eyes bleary. “Jesus,” he said. “Creep much? I know you missed me, but you don’t have to watch me sleep like you’re Edward fucking Cullen.”

I ignored the pop of relief in my chest and snorted. Talking shit the minute you wake up. Typical.

“How would you know? You weren’t here the minute I woke up,” he retorted. “It’s been hours. I was beginning to think you’d fucked off and forgotten about me.”

Anyone ever tell you you’re needy as hell?

“Yeah. You.”

We stared at each other for a taut moment before we broke out into grins. Well, he grinned, and I sort of smiled.

I leaned forward and clasped him in a hug—our first in years. I wasn’t a hugger by nature, but fuck, it felt good to see him back in form.

The heart monitor had beeped steadily the entire time I was here, but I hadn’t been convinced Jordan wasn’t actually dead until he opened his big mouth.

I gave him one last thump on the back before I pulled away. My smile faded. Despite his wisecracks, he was pale and gaunt after a week in the hospital—a week he’d spent here because of me.

I’d gotten him shot, and I’d slept with his fiancée while he’d been out cold. Engagement of convenience or not, it was still a shitty thing to do.

I was going to rot in hell. That had already been a given, but my recent actions really put me in the red.

The weight of our last conversation ballooned between us. We’d both said things we shouldn’t have, but time and a near-death experience had smoothed the jagged edges of our anger.

I’m glad you’re okay. I settled for the obvious before we jumped into the inevitable.

“Me too.” Jordan gave me a half smile. “The doctors said it was touch and go there for a bit, but you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He hesitated. “What happened to the shooters?”

I took care of them.

Jordan knew about the Brotherhood in the vaguest terms. I’d told him enough to explain why I needed the money in college, but he never grasped the full extent of what they did or my involvement with them.

I planned on keeping it that way. I refused to drag him into the seedy underbelly of my life.

“You took care of them,” he repeated. “Do I want to know how?”

I shrugged.

“Right.” His grimace told me he had his suspicions, but he’d rather not confirm them. “Ayana came by this morning. She told me about you two.”

My eyes flew to his.

“Don’t worry. I’m not pissed or anything,” he said with a wry smile. “We had a long talk. It was…helpful, so I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. Getting shot really made me reevaluate my priorities. Like, if it didn’t involve the risk of death, I’d recommend everyone try it because the clarity you get is unmatched.” His joking tone fell away with his next words. “I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore, Vuk, and I definitely don’t want what happened before the ceremony to come between us.”

This time, I was the one who grimaced. We had to talk about what happened eventually, but I looked forward to it about as much as I looked forward to a root canal with no anesthesia.

“I was blindsided by, you know, the whole Ayana thing.” Jordan sighed, and a pang of guilt prickled my skin. “You should’ve told me earlier, Vuk. All those months we were engaged, you never said a thing. I made you take her to California for our cake tasting, for Christ’s sake.”

It wasn’t relevant at the time. Because I thought they’d been in love and that I could bury my obsession beneath avoidance. What a fool I’d been.

“It was relevant enough for you to try to buy me out an hour before the wedding. One hundred and twenty million dollars. That’s a hell of a commitment,” Jordan countered. “I was angry you’d kept such a big secret from me. I felt like an idiot, pushing you two together all the time when you…” He sighed again and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The truth is out. The real question is, what happens now?”

A rock pressed right against my ribs.

He said he didn’t want to pretend anymore. Did that mean…I didn’t dare hope…

“I’m tempted to keep you in suspense, but fuck it.” Jordan reached for something in his bedside drawer. When he uncurled his hand, a familiar diamond glittered in the cradle of his palm. “I ended things with Ayana. Officially.”

My breath exploded out of me in a rush. The boulder collapsed, dragging a heavy ball of dread and anxiety away with it.

He’d ended things with Ayana. No engagement. No wedding. No sneaking around behind Jordan’s back. They were both single and free.

If I weren’t sitting, I might’ve floated to the ceiling like Mary fucking Poppins.

“It was a long time coming. We made the pact so long ago, and neither of us was into it when the ceremony rolled around. We’d just invested too much into the sham to call it off at the last minute,” Jordan said. “I admit my ego also got in the way. No one wants to feel like a charity case, and it felt like you were just throwing money at me to make me go away. Like an amount that was such a big deal to me was nothing to you.”

A thread of guilt tethered me back to earth.

That wasn’t my intention, but I know I wasn’t particularly tactful during our conversation. I hesitated. I asked Ayana to call off the wedding a few weeks before the ceremony. She refused. Up until the last minute, I thought I could respect both your wishes and bear it anyway. Pretend it wouldn’t kill me inside to see her get married to someone else. But I couldn’t. In that last hour before the ceremony, I panicked, and when you told me about the arrangement, I thought I saw a clear way out. I wasn’t thinking about anything except stopping the wedding. That was my fault. I’m…sorry.

I wasn’t big on sharing my feelings or apologizing. I did what I did because I felt like it, and no one dared say a thing.

But this situation with Jordan and Ayana was different. They both deserved more from me.

“Jesus.” Jordan gawked at me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you express so many words at once, ever. Not even in college.”

I snorted Don’t get used to it. I’ve almost reached my word quota for the year.

“Good thing the year’s almost over, huh?” He tossed a small smile my way. “I appreciate the apology, and I accept. I’m sorry too, for letting my ego dictate my actions. I shouldn’t have tried to push through the wedding. It wasn’t fair to any of us. So.” Jordan cleared his throat. “I guess there’s no need for a long, drawn-out thing now that we’ve both apologized, right? We’re cool?”

My mouth tipped up. Yes, as long as you put that ring away. I never want to see the damn thing again.

“Hey, this ‘damn thing’ cost a shit-ton of money.” But Jordan did as I asked.

When do you go home?

“The doctors want to monitor me for a few days. After that, I’m outta here.” He glanced at the door, his expression clouding. “Once I’m home, I’m going to tell my family everything. I’m dreading it, but maybe they’ll go easy on me considering I almost died. My grandmother is the one I’m most worried about. She fell on Friday, and that’s on top of her diagnosis. I hope our conversation doesn’t make things worse.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have experience with this sort of thing. When I was worried, I liked to hole myself up at home and shut out the rest of the world. I assumed that wasn’t what Jordan wanted.

It’ll all work out in the end. What a stupid platitude, but people liked hearing it.

Jordan eyed me. “Words of comfort from Vuk Markovic?” he joked. “Ayana’s influence, I presume.”

The only ones you’ll get from me. You want to talk more? Get a real therapist.

“You’re such an asshole,” he said with a laugh.

We shot the shit for a while longer before a nurse came by to say visiting hours were over.

I left, my body buzzing with relief. He was okay, and we were okay.

For years, I’d thought Jordan and I didn’t have much in common except for our history. I hadn’t realized until now that we did share one important trait: loyalty. Hell, he was more loyal than I was, given the whole Ayana situation, and I’d taken it for granted. I wouldn’t do so again.

I’d cleaned up before I visited Jordan, but I took a real, thorough shower when I went home. I scrubbed myself raw, determined to wash away the stain of that morning’s events. Dexter deserved what he got, but I took no inherent pleasure in what I’d done.

It was only when I was squeaky clean and changed into a fresh set of clothes that I called Ayana.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hey.” Her warm voice trickled right through my chest. “Did you take care of your work emergency?”

“For the most part.” I sat at my desk and stared at my dark computer screen. “I just came back from seeing Jordan. He told me you two ended things.”

There was an audible hitch of breath, followed by a cautious, “We did.”

“Good.” One word encompassed a world of emotion.

Ayana was back in the city. I wasn’t thrilled about that—she was a little too close for comfort given the Brotherhood developments—but she and Jordan were over, which meant there was nothing stopping us from being together.

My worries about the Brotherhood were the only thing keeping me from going to her apartment right now. We’d been apart for less than a day, and I already missed her. It was pathetic.

Unfortunately, I had to deal with Shepherd first. Once he was out of the way, I could take all the time in the world to be with her.

“I have to tie up some loose ends for this work project over the next few days,” I said. “But if you’d still like shooting lessons, meet me at the Valhalla Club on Friday. Six p.m. Wear something comfortable.”

“It’s a date.” Ayana paused. “That is, I mean⁠—”

“It’s a date.”

I could practically hear her smile over the phone. “Then I won’t keep you much longer since you have work. I’ll see you on Friday. Good night.”

A strange warmth rippled through my veins. “Good night, srce.”

My phone call with Ayana was my last moment of peace before I snapped into work mode.

It took Sean less than eight hours to confirm Dexter’s intel. It took us another twelve to formulate and prep a strategy that was as fast, nimble, and effective as it could be given our limited time and resources.

In an ideal world, we’d have more than two days to carry out a hit against an elite assassins. Unfortunately, grabbing Dexter had tipped our hand. Shepherd was spooked, and if we didn’t move soon, he’d go underground before we could nab him.

I wasn’t going to drag this out any longer than necessary. I wanted the Brotherhood problem behind me, once and for all. After Shepherd died, Roman would rally the troops and take out the other faction. He already had a plan; he just needed my resources to pull it off. Once that happened, he’d take control of the Brotherhood, and he swore he would perform a blood oath that would prevent the organization from coming after me ever again.

The plan required a lot of trust in someone who was inherently untrustworthy. Unfortunately, I had no better options. It was either go along with Roman or look over my shoulder and wage war against the Brothers for God knew how long. I couldn’t allow that to happen now that they’d broken their old code and were going after civilians.

User 02: T-minus five minutes.

My pulse raced at Roman’s encrypted message. I nodded at Sean, who ordered the rest of the team to get ready.

It was Wednesday night. D-Day. I had twelve people on my team, not including myself. Half of whom were here with me. That was Team A. Team B waited less than five minutes away in case we needed backup.

Shepherd’s primary safe house occupied the end of a cul-de-sac in Jersey, about a forty-minute drive from the city. My recon team had been staking him out since Monday and reported a spike in activity over the past few days. He was moving equipment, which confirmed my decision to strike fast before he abandoned this outpost.

I’d anonymously hired a local actor to invite the other residents on the street to a free “exclusive dining experience” at one of New York’s most famous restaurants. The meal was worth over a thousand dollars per person, and getting reservations was usually impossible. The actor framed it as a special giveaway to celebrate the restaurant’s one-year anniversary. The offer was too good for anyone to turn down, so the street was empty tonight save for us.

Team A was set up at the house closest to Shepherd’s. We were able to slip in and set up after Roman drew the faction leader out of his safe house with some bullshit excuse. Thankfully, there were no other members present.

Now, Shepherd and Roman were minutes from returning, and the tension was so thick I could slice it with a knife. I was downstairs with Sean, Mav, and Bruce. The others were upstairs.

I wondered what the house’s real owners would think if they saw seven men staked out in their living room and bedrooms, bristling with weapons and computers. Probably not anything good.

If everything went according to plan, we wouldn’t need to use our weapons, but it never hurt to be prepared.

A black SUV pulled onto the street and parked in front of the safe house. I tensed. Beside me, Sean did the same.

A man with silver hair stepped out, his lean frame and stern expression belying his casual clothing. Roman followed soon after. He didn’t spare our house a single glance.

My team and I were well hidden in the shadows. Nevertheless, I waited with bated breath for the moment Shepherd turned and saw us trying to ambush him.

The moment never came.

He and Roman entered the house. Our computer feeds flickered to life, displaying black-and-white images of the two men inside. The timer we’d wired to the front door started ticking down.

Five minutes.

Shepherd and Roman stopped in the dining room. They exchanged words, their expressions calm. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to set up an audio feed, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Four minutes.

Roman gestured at the exit, his expression still calm. He walked toward the exit, but Shepherd grabbed him before he made it two steps.

“Fuck,” Sean whispered.

My heart rate sped up. The plan was for Roman to ensure Shepherd made it into the house and stayed there until the explosives went off. He had a five-minute window to get out himself, or he’d be blown to bits along with the faction leader.

Three minutes.

Roman must’ve been convincing enough to get Shepherd to leave the house with him when the other man was already suspicious about Dexter’s disappearance. However, Roman’s sudden attempt to leave had obviously raised some red flags because Shepherd’s face twisted into a scowl.

Two minutes.

Shepherd dropped Roman’s arm. With a snakelike movement so fast I could barely track it, he pulled out his gun and pressed it straight to Roman’s temple.

“Shit.” Mav this time. “That fucker’s toast.”

“At least he’s making sure Shepherd’s inside while the house blows,” Bruce said. “That’s something.”

No one responded.

One minute.

My pulse ticked in time with the final countdown. A messy tangle of emotions knotted in my gut.

I didn’t like Roman. Barely trusted him when I didn’t have to. Would’ve happily shot him dead that day in my office if he hadn’t saved himself by the skin of his teeth.

Traitors were traitors, and even if he was on my side, his actions left a bad taste in my mouth.

However, he’d also provided invaluable help and intel in my fight against the Brotherhood. Did he have selfish motives? Yes. But he hadn’t steered me wrong yet, which was honestly more than I’d expected from him.

I glanced at the timer. Thirty seconds left.

We’d raced against time to wire Shepherd’s house with explosives on the lower and upper floors. Their range was limited to the house and part of the yard, but they were powerful enough to decimate anyone within that radius.

We’d explored subtler options, including a sniper or poison, but they left too much to chance. Sometimes, brute force was the only way to go.

Onscreen, Roman was talking. Whatever he said was enough to keep Shepherd from pulling the trigger. That was a mistake.

In a move even quicker than Shepherd’s, Roman twisted the other man’s arm and knocked the gun across the room.

Twenty seconds.

Roman didn’t bother to look back at the faction leader. He sprinted for the exit. Shepherd ran after him, his expression almost feral.

Ten seconds.

Bruce and Mav straightened. My heart thundered.

Five.

Roman was almost at the door when Shepherd grabbed the tail of his shirt. Panic spread across Roman’s face.

Four.

He turned and found enough leverage to slam his knee into the other man’s groin. Shepherd doubled over.

Three.

Roman managed to free himself and fling open the door.

Two.

He raced across the yard and⁠—

BOOM.

The explosion sent him flying into the street. Flames burst out from the windows and lit up the night sky.

My team and I were prepared with protective hearing devices, but the blast was still so loud, it rocked the house and rattled my bones.

Team A immediately spilled into the night to deal with the aftermath and make sure Shepherd was dead. One of them pulled a soot-covered and annoyed-looking Roman off the pavement.

I stayed inside the house. I stared at the flames dancing less than two dozen feet away. They were beautiful, which made them more insidious. The acrid scent of smoke seeped through the bolted windows and into my lungs.

Burnt flesh. A whole body of it. Would Shepherd’s corpse look like my brother’s? Did he die in as much pain as Lazar, or was his an undeservedly quick and merciful death?

“Vuk.” Sean’s quiet voice brought me out of my spiral.

He’d anticipated the effect the fire might have on me; I’d insisted on coming anyway. I wouldn’t have my men risk their lives if I wasn’t willing to do the same.

I smoothed my expression and turned to my security chief. He’d been communicating with the team via his earpiece.

“All clear,” he said. “Shepherd was the only person in the house. The guys have his body. He’s dead.”

Dead.

Shepherd was dead. Our rushed plan had somehow gone off without a hitch.

I stared out the window again.

My team had gotten the flames under control. Roman had disappeared, as expected. We’d intercepted the emergency phone lines so no first responders would interrupt us, but it was still prudent to leave the scene as quickly and cleanly as possible.

When investigators finally looked into the explosion, they’d find planted evidence of a half-truth—a criminal leader taken out by his adversaries. Law enforcement never put too much effort into bringing a killer of killers to justice. Soon, the case would be relegated to the back of a drawer, never to be touched again.

Shepherd was dead.

The revelation cycled through my mind again. I expected to feel relief, but the boulder on my shoulders didn’t budge.

Roman’s near-death aside, the ease with which we’d taken out one of the Brotherhood’s faction leaders seemed anti-climactic. Too anti-climactic. We hadn’t even called in Team B.

Was it really that easy? Was the new generation so sloppy, they’d fall victim to a hastily constructed scheme?

We had an inside source and the element of surprise on our side (sort of), which might explain our success.

Still, as my men and I tied up our loose ends and left, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that my troubles weren’t over yet.