Ezra gave a casual shrug as if it was no big deal. “You would no longer be answerable to Wylder. Consider it a promotion. You’d come to me for your marching orders, and I’d assign men who’d report to you and follow your own orders in turn. You’d essentially be on the same level as Wylder himself.”
“But not quite, because he’s your son,” I had to say, nudging him just a little.
“Blood isn’t everything,” Ezra said. “Power should be earned. I wouldn’t consider the position of heir certain just yet.”
Was he really saying what I thought he was? My pulse stuttered, but I made myself look awed instead. “You can’t really mean you think I could fill those shoes…”
He patted my shoulder, leaving my skin crawling. “You sell yourself short, Rowan. If you play your cards right, who knows, the rulership of the Nobles might be up for grabs. Think my proposition over and let me know when you’re ready to start.”
He ambled out of the kitchen without any indication that he’d even considered I might refuse. I stayed frozen on the stool by the island, chilled through to the bone, with that fake smile still plastered on my face.
He wanted to replace Wylder—to wrench everything Wylder had worked for away from him over a few disagreements that frankly I thought Ezra had the wrong idea on. And he was trying to lure me away with that promise. Not that I’d have trusted anything the snake said after he’d revealed how little respect he had for the son he’d raised.
What was he going to think if I turned him down, though? Fuck.
“I need a drink,” I muttered to myself, and headed over to the lounge room with the home bar.
I poured myself a double shot of vodka and downed most of it in one go. It burned down my throat. The sour taste made me grimace, but I threw back the rest to chase it.
“What’s gotten into you?” Wylder said from the doorway. “I thought day-drinking was my domain.”
He grinned at me as he came over to the bar. I motioned to the bottle. “You could have some too if you’re feeling left out. I’ll pour.”
Wylder shook his head. “I’m not much for vodka, and I’ve already been hitting the brandy as much as I think is wise.” He rubbed his temple. “It’s been a shitty couple of days, hasn’t it?”
“You can say that again.” I eyed the bottle of vodka, debating whether I could stomach another shot. Whether I might say something stupid if I did.
“Thanks for looking out for Gideon when we were up against Xavier and his pricks,” Wylder said. “All the power in that brain of his, but he definitely isn’t going to take down three thugs in a fist fight. I’d have jumped in there, but…” He grimaced.
He’d had to protect Mercy from Xavier himself. I’d have liked to take a few swings at that prick too.
But even as my frustration with her psycho stalker flared up, most of my nerves settled, the uneasiness in my gut fading. Wylder did appreciate how I contributed to the team, and he wasn’t afraid to say so. I’d sure as hell rather be working under him than a treacherous bastard like Ezra.
Which meant I knew exactly what I had to do now with my loyalties.
“Of course,” I said. “Gideon’s practically family. And so are you. And speaking of family… Your dad and I just had a very unusual conversation.”
Wylder frowned. “About what?”
“About you, actually.”
“Ugh, I’m not surprised. What did he say?”
I hesitated for a moment, not because I had any doubts about telling Wylder, but because I didn’t want to make the revelation more painful than it had to be. But who was I kidding? Hearing it was going to suck no matter what.
“He was feeling me out, trying to see if I’ve been unhappy working under you,” I said. “Making comments about your competence. He’s encouraging me to come over and answer directly to him.” I paused and swallowed thickly. “And he hinted that you might not inherit the Noble empire after all.”
To my surprise, Wylder started laughing. Then I heard the harshness of the sound. There was no humor in it.
“It figures,” he said with unconcealed bitterness. “He lays down the law and doesn’t even wait to see if I’ll step in line. Gee, thanks, Dad.”
I could tell I was missing something. “Step in line about what? Did something else happen between you two after Axel caught us with Mercy?”
Wylder’s face turned serious, and his green eyes cut to mine. The silent anger in them was unmistakable. “He… He ordered me to kill Mercy. And he gave me five days—three now—to actually execute that order.” The glass in his hand cracked. Wylder looked down at it but didn’t even flinch.
A rush of panic and rage nearly overwhelmed me. I grappled with my emotions, fighting for control. “Excuse me?”
“There’s nothing more to it. He wants Mercy out of the way, and he wants me to prove I’ll fall in line by being the one to do it.”