32
Lex is tense besides me, he acts cool, collected but his body is coiled tight, like a snake ready to strike, his muscles hard, fingers squeezing the glass tumbler in his hand so hard I worry it may shatter.
He hates this.
The lack of control.
The threats.
This is a man who has had everything and never been questioned, now, it’s different. The knots are unravelling and he’s frantically trying to tighten them without understanding the whole picture.
I didn’t understand any of it, how this world worked, how business is exchanged but I knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was the self-proclaimed king and someone else was threatening to take his crown.
His fingers absentmindedly draw circles on my exposed thigh whilst he nurses his scotch.
“He’s here,” someone says besides us and both Ryker and Lex sit up straighter, eyes lasering in on the elevator doors.
Griffin.
When the metal doors slide open a few minutes later and I get a look at my old friend, I first feel relief and then that all goes out the window when I get a true glimpse at his face. He looks tired, ill, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His shoulders sag, his skin is pale and he doesn’t look like the old friend I used to know.
There’s an invisible weight on his shoulders.
“Search him.” Lex orders.
Two men descend on Griff, forcing his arms wide and his legs apart as they pull and prod his body, searching for weapons. They withdraw a phone from his pocket and a notepad with a pen but that’s all they find.
“You really think I’d bring weapons into the devils lair,” Griff growls, “it may be stupid to be here, but I am not a fucking idiot.”
“Sit.” Lex demands, ignoring his statement.
I try to give him a reassuring smile, but he glances away quickly, unable to maintain eye contact. When he does sit, he finally looks at me and then at the hand still rested on my thigh, “You’re with him, now?”
“Griff –”
“Don’t speak to her,” Lex hisses, “This is between you and me. Say what you have to say and then get the fuck out of my club.”
“I’m here to help,” Griff growls back.
Lex’s muscles become increasingly tighter, like pressure under a lid, too much and he’ll explode.
“Then help,” Lex’s fingers bite into my skin, “before I change my fucking mind.”
“This is your fucking fault,” Griffin roars, “if you hadn’t fucking gone after Wren none of this would have happened. You pissed off the wrong man!”
Lex laughs though it’s more manic than humored, “You think Valentine scares me?” He says in a voice so low I’m unsure if Griffin actually hears him, “Valentine is nothing. He has no power, no control. No loyalty,” the last part of his sentence is spat.
“It isn’t Valentine you should be worried about.”
“The Syndicate, it’s funny, everyone keeps mentioning this organization like they’re the boogey man and yet they can’t do the work themselves.”
“Marcus got involved with the Syndicate a little over a year ago. They contacted him when he first took a shot at the city, telling him they could help. That they had the resources and the man power where he did not. He signed on the dotted line immediately. Wren here, was never supposed to be a part of this though. After a while, Marcus realized that the Syndicate would always be in control. They had him and his men. They were clever really.”
“And so what? The Syndicate want the city?”
“Yes, they want you and your men under their thumb whether they have to kill you or not. Marcus was their way in but that’s no longer going to work for them.”
“Valentine’s an idiot.”