“It was unfortunate what happened to you.”
“To me? You knew Tanner took me?”
He nodded. “It had to happen. Tanner was very loyal to Vault and him kidnapping you gave Kai a reason to take him out. Although, I suspect it was your man over there who killed him. And before he loses his cool and comes over here, it’s better we end this now. What you need to know now, Chaos, is we’re taking them down.” He smirked at my shocked expression then got up and put a fifty on the bar. “Lay low for a while, would you? We need this shit with Tanner and Kai to settle. I’ll be in touch.”
I stood and grabbed his arm before he could leave. From the corner of my eye, I saw Deck get out of the booth and stand, but he didn’t come toward us. “Tristan.” He looked at my hand on his arm, but I refused to back down. “Who the hell are you?”
His brows rose. “I’m exactly who I say I am, Tristan Mason, owner of Mason Development.”
“If you’re telling me the truth, then give me something to make me believe you. For all I know, you’re Vault trying to set me up.”
He was quiet a minute then boldly turned and looked straight at Deck. “He’s good at what he does, and we’ll need that.” Tristan leaned in closer, his chest barely touching mine. “I know someone in Vault. It was my contact who suggested to them to keep an eye on me.”
“What? Why would you do that? They’ll kill you if they find out.”
“I needed to meet you and I needed it to be their idea, not mine.” He glanced back down at my hand still holding his arm and I let go. “I’m high profile. They won’t touch me unless absolutely necessary. I have nothing—at the moment—that would make them come after me.”
“Except your contact.” He trusted someone in Vault? He knew someone in Vault that meant— “My brother? Do you know anything about him?” I held my breath waiting, heart pounding. Please say he’s still alive.
“Connor. He’s in France. Alive.” I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale. “I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you right now.”
I nodded, looking down at my feet trying to hold back the tears. A conflict of emotions pooled inside me. I wanted so badly for my brother to be alive, but at what cost? What had they put him through? What were they doing to him now? “I want him back,” I whispered more to myself than to Tristan.
“You won’t get him back.” My gaze darted to him, chest tightening. “If he gets out, he will never be the brother you knew.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Tristan tensed and his jaw twitched. “Because I was never the same.”
“What?”
“The Vault kidnapped me when I was eight. Destroyed any childhood I would’ve had. To this day, my parents and sister don’t know I’m alive. They can never know. I lost that the second I became part of Vault.”
“But you aren’t now.”
“No. I escaped when I was fifteen. Someone from Vault helped me—my contact.” Tristan’s brows lowered further over his darkened eyes. “Now, I have the money and the resources to get my contact out and rip Vault apart.” He nodded toward Deck. “Your man and his men have a reason to go after Vault. You have a reason to go after Vault and now Kai has a reason to go after Vault. It’s time.”
“Do you think we can really do this?”
“No, but I’ll die trying.” Then he walked out.
I HATED COMING here.
It was as if I was stripped down and forced to walk naked into a place where they had magnifying glasses and were looking at every part of me. And no one was even here. The real fucked-up part was that if they didn’t like something, they had every right to do something about it. And that something always sucked.
Immunity didn’t exist even for the son of one of Vault’s board. Shit, Mom killed my father after having him beaten until he vomited blood. She made my sister and me watch—we were five and seven. Then she walked up to him, hanging by his wrists in the middle of the room where the members of the board stood around and watched. And she drove her knife up under his ribcage and killed him.
A few years ago, my sister was brought to France where she was tortured publicly for days. She had attempted to escape Vault. I warned her not to do it.
They found her. Now she sat in some filthy cell in their dungeon of horrors in France. Death was too quick. Too easy. No, they’d make an example of her. She’d rot to death and then they’d show us all what happened if we tried to leave.
Nothing was simple here. Death came with a price. Death was a privilege. I learned early on to block out the faces, the screams, and the smell of blood, piss and vomit.