The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #1)(50)

“It matters not. I do not sleep.” As Darius focused on the male, the Jackal made a show of replacing the renderings’ proper order. “And it is easy effort when the owner is such a decisive and incisive client.”

After a moment, Darius returned his eyes unto the plans. “And you have gotten for me all of the workmales, too. However did you accomplish such a thing?”

“You may credit our mutual acquaintance Jabon. He was forthcoming with a reference, who in turn proved a fount of labor provision.”

“But you will stay on and see the project through, yes?”

The Jackal inclined his head. “I intend to carry it from cornerstone to finishing touch, and to center my thoughts on the proper sequencing of it all, I have outlined the orders herein.” He tapped a stack of more reasonably sized white pages. “This is a copy for you to keep and comment upon. I am looking forward to this project like no other.”

“I am glad that you will be in charge. Such a relief unto me—”

Later, when Rhage replayed the ensuing series of catastrophes within his head, he would recollect that the footfalls coming down the stairs, those urgent yet delicate footfalls, were harbingers of the downfall. Of many downfalls. Yet, as with so many prescient signs, he did not, at first, recognize their significance.

The shout from the second floor was a different story.

As he turned about to see what of the commotion, Ellany flew off the last of the staircase’s steps, her silken dressing gown not at all appropriate for the public areas of the house. And the instant she saw him, she stumbled to a halt, the peach silk that covered her swirling around in a perfumed furl. If he hadn’t been standing in the parlor, he was quite sure she would have escaped the house entirely and run out into the street.

Her mahmen’s voice was sharp as it repeated her name. Twice more. And when Ellany did not even glance to the head of the stairs, another set of footfalls came down.

Ellany as yet paid no heed. Her gaze was fixated on Rhage, her eyes glazed with tears.

“I did it for you,” she whispered. “I did it . . . for you.”

That was when he noticed the blood on the silk. Down upon the skirting portion.

Warning bells rang loud and insistent in his head. “Whate’er do you speak of, female?”

Ellany finally looked unto her mahmen as the older female descended to the marble flooring and shot across over to her progeny. The mahmen, who was properly dressed, grabbed onto a thin arm and shook the poor girl.

“What did you do?” the female blurted.

Ellany’s desperate eyes returned unto Rhage.

Across the receiving foyer, in the archway of the dining room, Jabon appeared, a linen napkin in one hand, an expression of pleasant inquiry on his face.

When he saw what was transpiring in his foyer, that all changed. He put a sharp hand behind himself, as if ordering the others in the dining room to sit and stay. And then he stepped forward and pulled a set of double doors shut behind himself.

With a stern look that seemed wholly out of his character, he addressed the two females. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

Both sought him with their eyes, and there was a long moment of silent communication. But Rhage cared not for whate’er transpired betwixt the three. He spoke loud and clear to all who could hear.

“I disavow any carnal knowledge of this female under your roof,” he said. “I have had no attentions thereupon her, and the Jackal can attest as such.”

As he stepped aside and indicated the other male, Ellany recoiled as if she had been unaware there were any others with Rhage in the parlor.

Gathering her silken gown such that the stains were covered, she looked around at all of her elders, a swimmer of little skill and even less strength about to sink into a watery grave.

“He was the one who deflowered me,” she announced. “It was him.”

Rhage opened his mouth to recant the slanderous accusation . . . until he realized she did not point at him.

She was indicating the Jackal with trembling hand and red-rimmed, tragic eyes. “He deflowered me.”





The Jackal grabbed Nyx’s hand, but there was no need to pull her along into an escape. She raced right for the run he set them on, and they pounded back to the finished parts of the Command’s quarters.

Had he been wrong about the timing? Had he gotten the shifts incorrect? When that guard had come up to the Wall, he had been surprised—but so had the other male, and that moment of confusion had provided him with an opportunity he had taken immediate advantage of. Now, though, he was concerned that duties had changed. And worse, that backup had been called before he had killed the guard.

Rounding the corner, he—

The flank of four guards were in two-by-two formation, marching along in a coordination that was quickly interrupted. The first pair immediately dropped to their knees as guns were taken out of holsters, and four muzzles were pointed forward.

The Jackal jumped in front and spread his arms wide. “You know you cannot shoot me.”

“What?” Nyx hissed behind him.

“You cannot shoot me.” Lowering his voice, he said softly unto her. “Do it.”

He had no idea whether she would understand what he meant. But then he felt her hand braced on his back, between his shoulder blades, and her gun appeared under his right arm.