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Home / Romance / MY BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER, MY RUIN / Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

All Chapters of MY BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER, MY RUIN: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

110 Chapters

91

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find it?"Ignatius leaned against the mahogany desk, his skin glistening with a thin, oily sheen of sweat. The tropical storm hammered the library windows, the glass vibrating in its frames like a trapped bird. He wasn't the Saint right now. His eyes were bloodshot, the pupils blown wide from the fever. He looked at Rafferty, and for the first time since the boat burned, the mask wasn't just slipping—it was melting."Find what, Ignatius? You're burning up. Sit down."Rafferty stepped forward with a damp cloth. The air in the library was thick, heavy with the scent of old paper and the ozone from the lightning. The power had flickered out an hour ago. Only the erratic pulses of the storm lit the room."The ledger. Not the one you burned. The other one." Ignatius let out a jagged, rattling breath. He reached for a crystal decanter on the desk, his hand shaking so hard the glass clattered against the wood. "The one where you tracked the payments to the

92

"You look like a trapped bird, Raffy."Ignatius didn't look up from the apple. His fingers moved with surgical precision, the red skin curling away in one long, unbroken spiral. Rafferty tried to sit up, but a sharp, metallic tug snapped his wrist back against the headboard. The gold links of the shackle bit into his skin. Cold. Heavy."What the fuck is this?" Rafferty’s voice was a dry rasp. He yanked again. The headboard groaned. "Ignatius! Unlock this right now!""The storm is getting worse." Ignatius sliced a pale wedge of fruit. He held it out. "You were thrashing in your sleep. Screaming Leo's name. I couldn't have you hurting yourself while I was in the kitchen.""You chained me to my own bed." Rafferty’s chest heaved. He looked at the gold chain. It wasn't a standard police cuff. It was a custom piece, thick links polished to a mirror finish. "Where’s the key?""Eat." Ignatius pressed the apple slice against Rafferty’s lips. "You need your strength. Leo's men are already at th

93

"Answer it, Ignatius."The satellite phone pulsed on the nightstand. A rhythmic, electronic chirp. It was the only sound in the room besides the rain hitting the shutters. Ignatius didn't move. He sat in the wingback chair, the glow from the phone’s tiny screen carving out the sharp hollows of his cheeks."I know that frequency," Ignatius whispered. His voice was a dry rasp. "It’s the one we used before the fire. The one you said was buried."Rafferty sat up in bed. His skin was slick with cold sweat. He reached for the phone, his fingers trembling. "It can't be him. Silas is at the bottom of the Mediterranean. I saw the wreckage photos.""The dead don't call at three in the morning." Ignatius leaned forward. He picked up the device. He hit the speaker button."Ignatius? You there, you beautiful freak?"The voice was like sandpaper on silk. Silas. Older. Breathier. But unmistakably Silas."I'm here," Ignatius said. He didn't look at Rafferty. He looked at the shadows on the ceiling."

94

Ignatius leaned against the doorframe of the master bathroom. Steam already began to curl around his shoulders, a white fog that blurred the edges of his silhouette. He held a straight razor in one hand and a silk cloth in the other. His eyes didn't move from Rafferty’s throat."I can wash myself, Ignatius. I'm not an invalid." Rafferty stood by the marble counter. His wrist still bore the red, angry ring from the shackle. The gold chain lay discarded on the bed in the other room, a temporary reprieve that felt like a noose waiting to be retied."You're a liar, Raffy. And liars shouldn't be left alone with their thoughts. Or their hands. Strip. Now."Rafferty’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. One popped. Hit the floor. Tink. He kicked it aside. He peeled the damp fabric from his skin, his chest heaving. Every movement felt like a surrender. He stepped out of his slacks, standing naked in the center of the room. The air was cold on his skin, clashing with the rising heat

95

"Don't move. Don't even blink."Ignatius’s voice was a low vibration against Rafferty’s ear. The laser dot remained fixed on his forehead, a red eye in the gloom of the vault entrance. Rafferty’s heart hammered against his ribs. The cold weight of the gold shackle on his wrist felt like a terminal diagnosis."Silas is on the balcony," Rafferty hissed. "He’s going to kill us both.""Silas is a loudmouth with expensive toys." Ignatius didn't look at the laser. He looked at the shadows of the hallway. "The mercenaries are already in the foyer. I can hear their boots. Heavy. Professional. Not like the guards you hired, Raffy. These men don't take bribes. They take territory.""Then let me go! Give me a gun!""You'd probably shoot me first." Ignatius leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Rafferty’s ear. "And we can't have that. We’re just getting to the good part."A flash-bang detonated downstairs. The house shook. The sound was a physical blow, a white-hot scream that tore through th

96

"Kill him first."Rafferty’s voice sliced through the roar of the fire in the hallway. He didn't look at Ignatius. He kept his eyes on Silas, who was still lounging in the leather chair, the satellite phone resting on his knee like a scepter."Raffy?" Ignatius’s voice was a ghost of a sound. He didn't move. He didn't fight the two mercenaries who had stepped forward to kick his knees out from under him. He hit the floor with a heavy thud, his white shirt already stained with the dust of the foyer."You want me to execute our little project?" Silas laughed. He stood up, the light from the burning hallway casting a long, jagged shadow across the desk. "I thought you loved him. I thought you two were building a new world out of the ashes of the old one.""He lied to me." Rafferty stepped toward the desk. He didn't look back at Ignatius, who was kneeling in the center of the room, his head bowed. "He manufactured the debt. He destroyed Father. Everything I thought was a rescue was just a

97

"Is he still twitching?"Rafferty stood by the edge of the pit, his breath hitching in the damp, subterranean air. Below them, the cage groaned on its rusted chains. Silas lay sprawled across the cold stone floor of the cell, his fingers curling into claws, his eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. A thin trail of yellow foam leaked from the corner of his mouth."The dosage was precise, Raffy." Ignatius gripped the iron winch, his knuckles white, his broken thumb taped crudely to his palm. "He won't die. Not today. He’ll just exist in a body that refuses to move. A passenger in his own skin. Just like he wanted for you.""Lower him."Ignatius turned the crank. The heavy iron cage descended into the dark, the screech of metal on metal echoing off the wet limestone walls. Silas didn't groan. He couldn't. He just hit the bottom with a dull thud, a discarded bag of meat in a designer suit."Welcome home, brother." Rafferty spat into the darkness. He turned away from the pit, his

98

"They’re freezing the accounts, Ignatius."Rafferty dropped the tablet onto the floor of the vault. The screen cracked, a jagged spiderweb through the red 'ACCESS DENIED' banner. He leaned against the reinforced steel wall. The air in the bunker tasted like recycled ozone and sweat."Which ones?" Ignatius didn't look up from the security monitors. He sat with his hands folded, his taped thumb sticking out like a white flag. On the screen, the thermal cameras showed three black cutters approaching the island’s northern cove."All of them. The Swiss billions. The Marseille holdings. The Caymans. The government—they’re not just coming for Silas. They’re coming for the architects.""Interpol doesn't move that fast." Ignatius finally turned. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked at the crack in the tablet. "Someone gave them the encryption keys. Someone within the family.""Silas is in a cage ten feet below us, Ignatius. He can't even blink without permission. Who else is left?""You." Ignati

99

"Drop the gun, Rafferty!"The federal officer’s voice cracked through the salt spray. I didn't look at him. I watched the helicopter rise. A dark, buzzing insect against the grey morning. Ignatius was inside. Drugged. Heavy. A king being smuggled to a vineyard he’d never seen. The rotors whipped the water into a frenzy, stinging my eyes. I didn't blink."He's gone!" I shouted over the roar. I tossed the Glock. It skidded across the dock. Splashed into the surf. "There's nobody left to arrest!"The officer tackled me. Hard. My face hit the rough wood. I tasted salt. Splinters. He shoved my arms behind my back, the gold shackle on my left wrist clinking against the steel cuffs he slapped on my right."Where's the other one?" He shoved my head down. "Where's Ignatius Saint?""Burned." I spit a mouthful of blood onto his boot. "He stayed in the library. Wanted to go down with the books. Check the wreckage if you don't believe me."The fire above us was a glutton. It roared, devouring the

100

"Which one of you is the Saint?"The orderly’s voice bounced off the sterile white tile of Ward 9. Ignatius didn't move. He sat on the edge of his cot, his back a rigid line of muscle. Three years in the Blackwood Asylum hadn't softened him. It had just distilled him. He spent sixteen hours a day staring at the wall, tracing the invisible geometry of a life he’d burned to the ground."Answer him, Ignatius." The doctor stood by the heavy steel door. "You have a neighbor. Try to be civil."Ignatius turned his head. Slow. Methodical. His eyes were cold, flat disks. "I’m the only one left. You know that, Miller. Silas is a vegetable in a state ward and the other one—" He stopped. His jaw tightened. "The other one is ash.""Well, the new arrival doesn't seem to think so." Miller stepped back. "Bring him in."The heavy magnetic locks hissed. A man in a white jumpsuit stepped into the cell next to Ignatius. The walls between the units were reinforced glass. Transparent. Merciless.Ignatius d

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