Chapter 5 - The Gathering Storm
"They're going to come here, aren't they?" Clara asked, standing by the window, her small hand parting the dirty blinds.
"Eventually," Tristan said, his voice flat, drained of emotion. The realization that his own brother wanted him dead had removed any lingering hesitation. He was no longer a man defending his territory; he was a ghost clearing his house.
He picked up his phone, using a burn SIM card to dial a number he hadn't used in five years.
"Silas," Tristan said when the line picked up.
A gravelly, ancient voice answered. "Tristan. I thought you forgot about the old guard."
"Julian and Marcus have turned. They sold the family to Kane. Thomas Bennett is dead. I have his kids with me."
A long pause stretched over the line. Silas was the man who had trained Tristan’s father. He was eighty years old, living in a fortified farmhouse in upstate New York, surrounded by men who still remembered the old rules of the five boroughs.
May you like
"Bring the children to me," Silas said. "No one touches Bennett’s blood. Not while I’m breathing. But Tristan... if you come up here, you bring the fire with you. You can't leave the city alive if they still have a crown to fight over."
"I’m not leaving the city," Tristan said. "I’m just dropping off the guests."
