“What could possibly be funny about this?” Val begged, slamming the phone down onto the tabletop. “I told you! I told you right from the start; we should have taken Gabriel out when we had him. Now look at this! How did we not know about him?”
Raelynd’s smile still did not fade. “I knew, very well.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I honestly strike you as the type to overlook such a detail?” the Englishman mused. “I did underestimate Gabriel though. Never thought he’d go to these measures. Seems we’re gonna be in for quite the contest.”
His contentment only boiled Val’s blood all the more. “What contest? The game’s over, and it never even began! Blaine failed us, and his allegiance is undoubtedly in question. Even if your man survives the Angelorum’s injury, he’s a liability!”
“Oh, my poor comrade. You cannot see the forest through the trees,” addressed his boss grinningly. “Mr. Ryder doesn’t need to be on our side for him to perform his services.”
“What aren’t you telling us?” queried Val, seeing a sly glimmer ablaze in the Englishman’s eyes.
“Let’s just say that his loyalty is not nearly as important as his lips are. As for the other matter,” Raelynd cooed, pointing at the brown-haired boy in the photograph, “Gabriel’s gonna learn his lesson the hard way. He’s chosen to interfere. It’s open season now, and casualties are guaranteed.”
“You really think we’ll be able to pull this off in overtime?”
“My dear Valor,” purred Raelynd as black inked over the entirety of his gray eyes, “the game has only just begun.”