Chapter Text
Alys phoned just as Jesper was checking out of hospital, in the late afternoon. The doctor was in the midst of explaining the aftercare information, so Wylan hesitated to answer, before Jesper nodded his encouragement.
“Oh Wylan,” Alys exclaimed, then immediately burst into tears.
Wylan listened uncomfortably for what felt like a long while as she sobbed into the phone.
“It’s alright Alys,” he assured her, “everyone’s safe now.”
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw the news. And then the Stadwatch called! I just,” she choked, “I just don’t understand how this could have happened. Those poor people! Julissa!”
The housekeeper’s name relinquished a fresh explosion of sobs. Hearing her grief made it all the more real, just as it had when Jan had died. Wylan felt a sting in his chest…saw a flash of Julissa’s empty eyes staring up at him…
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I know you were close.”
“She was a good friend to me. Sometimes my only friend. I can’t believe she’s gone. It doesn’t feel real…”
“I know. Are you still with your family in Girecht?”
“I’m coming back now. The officer in charge of Julissa’s case wants to talk to me. I should be at the house in an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there.”
Wylan hung up, just as Jesper began walking in his direction, discharge papers in hand.
“How is she?” he asked.
“About as well as you might expect.”
He grimaced and wrapped a long arm around Wylan’s shoulders, a firm and warm weight that he clung to. He was mindful not to lean in too close to Jesper’s side; the Healer had warned that it might still be tender over the coming week, although most of the damage had been corrected.
“Ready to go home?” Jesper said with a small smile.
The use of the word ‘home’ wasn’t lost on Wylan, though he doubted Jesper had put much thought behind it. ‘Home’ had always been something of an abstract concept to him. It certainly had never been the Van Eck mansion, and he felt no grief at knowing he would be moving out soon. But ‘home’ wasn’t the Slat either; Jesper had invited him to stay, but he didn’t think they were quite ready to live together on a permanent basis. Where did that leave him?
The arm wrapped around him squeezed slightly. “Van Sunshine?”
Wylan blinked. He’d done it again…floated away with his own thoughts.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, “yes. Let’s go. Matthias should be here by now.”
His boyfriend looked exhausted, despite the smile on his face, with dark purple rings shading his grey eyes. Wylan doubted he looked much better. He wondered if he would get the chance to sleep tonight, or if he’d stay awake for hours yet again, watching the breaths rise and fall from Jesper’s body, afraid that if he closed his eyes for a second he might wake up in a nightmare.
Matthias was waiting for them outside in Rotty’s old car, muscular arm resting on the window ledge. He grinned broadly as they made their way over.
“You look terrible,” he said cheerily.
“Which one of us are you talking to?” asked Jesper.
“Both.”
Wylan climbed in across the back seat while Jesper lowered himself into the front with a slight wince.
“Pim has been asking after you, you know,” Matthias said to Jesper as he pulled out from the curb. “He’d kill me if he knew I’d told you that, but - ”
“Little shit,” Jesper said, albeit fondly, “I’m fine.”
“You can tell him yourself soon enough. You’re coming back to volunteer again, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. If there’s free food, I suppose.”
“He will,” Wylan said, “once he’s fully healed.”
Jesper winked at him slyly in the rearview mirror. “Few other things I’ll want to do first though….”
Matthias snorted, as Wylan made a point of staring out the window, his face flaming.
“Matthias,” he said by way of distraction, “could you drop me at the Geldstraat after you take Jes home?”
“You’re going back to the mansion?” Matthias asked dubiously.
“Just to see my stepmother. And grab a few things.”
Wylan saw Jesper glance at him dubiously and chose to ignore it. Ghezen, he wasn’t as fragile as everyone seemed to think. He’d spent enough miserable years in that place to know better than to fear it.
When he stepped out onto the street, however, and watched the car speed away, he was no longer very sure. Alys’ car was parked in the street, the security gate still slightly ajar. Two Stadwatch officers stood guard and eyed Wylan carefully as he approached and flashed his key. The gardens were just as they had always been, but there was fluorescent yellow tape criss-crossed over the front door and at the window into the sitting room. The glass was punctured with the smallest bullet hole.
He slipped underneath the tape and into the hall. A forensics team had already passed through, leaving numbered markings on the floors and walls. Stadwatch had also seized a number of personal affects, including all the computers, the files in Jan’s office, and even some books. Wylan wasn’t sure what they would find, but he hoped it was enough to tarnish his father’s name beyond any repute.
He tried not to look when he passed the entrance to the sitting room, but his eyes unwittingly drifted to the chair where Julissa had spent her final moments, now stained dark with blood. Kaz and the others had methodically removed the ropes as well as any trace of their DNA before they’d agreed to call the Stadwatch; as far as anybody else knew, only Wylan had been there to discover the body.
Alys was in the kitchen, speaking in low tones with a female officer who had a kindly face. She looked up from her cup of tea and her face crumbled at the sight of her stepson.
“Wylan…”
She rushed towards him, folding him into her arms. Wylan went rigid, unsure of what to do or where to put his hands. He forced his body to relax, hoping to find some comfort in her embrace, but all he felt was numb.
“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly when she pulled back, studying his face.
“Just tired,” he said. “I’ve been with Jesper at the hospital. He had an accident at work.”
“Oh no! Is he hurt very badly?”
“No, he…” Wylan hesitated, “he’ll live.”
Alys pressed his hand between her two soft palms. She glanced nervously at the Stadwatch officer, still sitting at the breakfast table, pretending not to listen.
“They’re saying Julissa must have been involved in something horrible,” she whispered, “gang violence in the Barrel. That it wasn’t related to what happened at the warehouse.”
Of course the Stadwatch would claim something like that. Julissa was like Jordie: a nobody, easily disposable and just as easily dismissed. Wylan wondered who had paid them off this time to protect those in power. Van Cornewal, most likely. Or Smeet. Men who had invested too much in the Van Eck name to afford more scandal.
“I’ve told them…” Alys sniffed, “I told them there’s no way Julissa could have done something like that. But they won’t believe me. And Wylan, that horrible gang operating out of the warehouse…those people they tortured and killed…they’re saying that your father - ”
“Jan,” Wylan corrected automatically. He couldn’t stomach the thought of calling that man ‘father’ any longer.
Alys was startled, yet after a beat she continued, “They’re saying he knew about it. That he had some kind of deal with them. Wylan, he couldn’t have, could he? He couldn’t have known. He mustn’t have known…”
Wylan let her squeeze his hand, her wide doe eyes desperately searching his face for some kind of explanation or absolution. Someday soon, Wylan would tell her the truth about the monster she’d married. About every evil thing he had worked so hard to hide from her, so he could use her as a pawn in his grand schemes, just like he used everyone else. But not now, when the wounds were so fresh. Not when she was carrying his child. For the time being, her naivety offered her the greatest protection, and Wylan almost envied it.
“We have to let the Stadwatch finish their investigation,” he said, loud enough for the nearby officer to hear. “We can trust that they’ll find out the truth.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Alys murmured, “the whole world feels like it’s turned upside down.”
Some commotion echoed from down the hall, before another Stadwatch officer emerged, looking disgruntled.
“Mrs Van Eck,” he said, “there’s some Suli man at the front gate. Claims he knows you.”
Alys paled, her lips frozen as they parted just slightly.
“He’s a family friend,” Wylan explained, after assessing her reaction. “You can show him in.”
The officer nodded curtly before disappearing back down the corridor. Alys fidgeted while they waited, fussing with her hair and worrying her lower lip.
“You can hide upstairs if you want,” Wylan said gently, “but I think what you really want is to see him.”
“I-I…” Alys trembled, then stopped abruptly, as the Stadwatch officer accompanied Adem Bajan into the kitchen.
His brown eyes swept over the room, acknowledging Wylan, before they locked onto Alys’ anxious face.
“I saw your car outside,” he breathed, “I heard the news…I didn’t know if…”
Wylan doubted his stepmother could form any words. He watched as her lovely face transformed, her guard lowering, and eventually she crumpled. Heaving, ugly tears leaked from her squinted eyes and drenched her flushed cheeks.
“Oh, Alys,” Adem sighed, the emotion pricking at his features too.
He opened his arms and she rushed into them without a second’s hesitation, crying into his stiff-collared shirt. He folded her in tight to his embrace as she sobbed, pushing back her hair, kissing the top of her head.
The Stadwatch officers suddenly took a great amount of interest in the kitchen window, and Wylan too felt as though he had intruded on something deeply private and personal. He stared at the floor, unable to resist smiling slightly to himself. When he looked up again, Alys and Adem were still holding each other, oblivious to a world around them that was beginning to twirl and twist in ways it hadn’t before.
Wylan and Jesper collapsed into bed early that evening, Wylan’s entire being aching with exhaustion after being awake for so many hours. He wondered if he might fail to fall asleep again, but the moment he was engulfed in the warmth, familiar scent and feel of Jesper’s bed, he must have lost consciousness. It was as if he’d blinked and then the sun was shining underneath cracks in the curtains, the Slat alive with movement and conversation downstairs. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, more rested than he had been in a long time.
He almost fell on the floor when he rolled over and saw that Jesper was already awake, bare-chested and gorgeous, grinning at him teasingly as he reclined on the pillow.
“Ghezen you scared me!” Wylan gasped, now fully awake. “Since when are you up before me?”
Jesper’s grin broadened. “You’re cute first thing in the morning.”
It really was annoying, when he said things like that just to make Wylan flustered, and damn if his stupid pale skin didn’t betray him every single time. Wylan knew he must do something about it, lest me spend their entire relationship easily blushed into distraction, only he didn’t really know where to begin.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, to turn the tide of the conversation. He couldn’t resist placing his fingers over Jesper’s injured ribcage, keeping the touch featherlight.
“Fantastic,” Jesper said, then winced as Wylan’s fingers traced a sensitive spot. “Maybe a bit tender.”
“The Healer said it would be. You need to take it easy.”
He’s so warm, Wylan thought. So contoured despite being so skinny, and with skin that was impossibly smooth. And, he continued to marvel, Wylan didn’t have to pretend not to notice those things or look away any longer. He could touch now, and look, as much as he wanted.
Perhaps Jesper could guess at his train of thought, because he placed a hand over Wylan’s own, drawing him in.
“Maybe not too easy,” he winked.
Wylan sputtered. “I’m pretty sure when Fedyor said to rest at home, he didn’t mean - ”
Jesper pulled him closer, rather effortlessly, into his warm embrace. Not that Wylan didn’t go willingly. He was practically on top of him when their lips joined together, sliding in a soft, lazy dance.
“Mmmph,” Wylan pulled back when he felt Jesper’s tongue probing. “Morning breath.”
Jesper chuckled. “You smell good to me.”
Nervously, Wylan relented, then quickly forgot to be self-conscious when he was consumed by the hot, wet sensation of Jesper’s mouth on his…the long arms holding him tight…the low moan that rumbled in Jesper’s throat and was swallowed by their kiss.
Wylan shifted closer, grabbing at Jesper’s hip, eager to feel that deliriously wonderful friction between their bodies again. His weight landed on Jesper’s bad side and he heard him hiss slightly, putting a stop to his actions.
“Are you sure you feel good enough for this?” he asked dubiously.
“I don’t know, Van Sunshine, how do I feel to you?”
“I was being serious.”
“So was I.”
Jesper pressed the evidence of his arousal against Wylan’s own, tearing a strangled whimper from Wylan’s lips.
“Fuck, Jes, I…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Jesper said, gentle and low. “I’ll stop you if it starts to get painful, okay?”
Wylan was out of concerns to list, and frankly he was relieved to be. He nodded in hasty agreement and slid is fingers along Jesper’s jaw, kissing him clumsily. Hungrily.
He slid a leg across Jesper’s thighs, then lowered himself onto his lap, careful not cause him any discomfort. Jesper’s brows shot up in surprise, though he didn’t exactly seem displeased, curling his arms around Wylan’s lower back.
Jesper breathed heat onto his neck, rolling his hips forward and then taking Wylan’s supple skin into his mouth, right over the pulse.
“Want you,” Wylan sighed. His eyes closed and he felt adrift in a state of pure bliss.
A sharp rapping on the door brought him hurtling back to reality. He opened his eyes in time to see the expression of pure vexation on Jesper’s face.
“Fuck off!” he shouted, throwing a glare in the direction of the sound. He was so hard, straining between Wylan’s legs through his boxers, and Wylan honestly wasn’t sure if this situation was more embarrassing or amusing or strangely arousing.
The person knocked again. “Downstairs, both of you. We have things to discuss.”
Kaz. Of course it was. Wylan bit back frustration as he heard the sound of limping footsteps and a cane fading away.
Jesper groaned, leaning back against the headboard.
“Suppose we can pick this back up later?” he said, with a dismal attempt at a smile.
Wylan frowned. “You don’t always have to do exactly what he wants, you know.”
The words were out before he’d even registered it. He knew exactly what Kaz meant to Jesper, after everything they’d been through. Yet it irked him somehow. Didn’t Kaz ever realise how damned lucky he was to have Jesper Fahey’s unconditional love?
“I don’t always do what he wants,” Jesper answered.
Wylan stared at him.
“What?”
“Jes…”
Jesper huffed. “Can we…can we not talk about this just now?”
“Fair enough,” Wylan shrugged. He ran his hands along both Jesper’s arms. Ghezen, he loved his arms…
Jesper shivered, and Wylan marvelled as goosebumps appeared along his skin.
“You…” Jesper paused as Wylan repeated the motion, “you’ll have to get off me so I can get out of bed.”
Wylan glanced around, faking nonchalance. “Hmm. Guess so.”
When he didn’t move, Jesper huffed again. “Wylan.”
“Jesper.”
He felt Jesper shift beneath him and rolled his hips again, rubbing their groins together.
“Saints,” Jesper groaned. “Come on. Stop being such a shit and get off.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Jesper laughed deeply as Wylan began kissing his neck; he could feel the sound traveling through him.
“You know, I think you’re more of a pain in the ass now than you ever were when we were fake dating.”
“That’s an interesting turn of phrase…”
He honestly wasn’t sure what had come over him, but Jesper didn’t seem to be complaining, and Wylan sensed he could grow to like this new more confident version of himself as well. He smirked into Jesper’s skin as he began kissing lower, a plan forming in his mind.
“What’s that thing you always used to say?” he asked innocently in between kisses.
“What thing?”
“When we were fake dating. You know, when I was being a pain in your ass, as you put it.”
“I don’t…know…” Jesper gasped, as Wylan’s mouth brushed pointedly over the nipple on his good side.
“I’ll give you a hint. It was usually after I’d told you to fuck off or something,” Wylan said. “Or…you might say it now, if I were to bring up just how hard this is obviously making you…”
His eyes flitted down of their own accord, to where Jesper’s cock was tenting his boxers, leaving a small wet stain. The sight of it made Wylan’s face catch fire, and he swallowed thickly.
Jesper’s eyes were blown wide. He stared as Wylan crept further down his body, finally catching on, and grinned.
“The mouth on you…”
“That’s right,” Wylan grinned back, “the mouth on me…”
Without waiting for embarrassment to deter him, he grabbed hold of the hem of Jesper’s boxers and slowly eased them down, careful not to hurt him. Then in a single swift motion, he wrapped his palm around the base of his erection and took the head into his mouth.
He heard Jesper moan, his body arching forward from where he was propped up against the headboard. Wylan used his free hand to palm Jesper’s stomach, urging him to remain still so he wouldn’t irritate his injuries. It was hard to focus on much else, however, except for the perfect weight and feel and taste on his tongue. He was only vaguely aware of the low, desperate sounds reverberating from the back of his own throat as he tried to take more, craving the fullness, the intimacy of having Jesper like this.
“Fuck,” Jesper hissed, almost as if he was in pain. Wylan pulled off him immediately, his grip relaxing.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked hesitantly.
He searched Jesper’s face; his eyes were darker, more silver than grey, his hair mussed and his lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.
“No,” he panted, beaming. “No, no, no. You’re just…fuck…you’re really fucking good at that.”
That hadn’t been what Wylan was expecting.
“Really?” he asked, genuinely curious. Because Jesper had been amazing at it, though that had hardly been a surprise, since everything he did was.
“Really,” Jesper chuckled, “wasn’t that obvious?”
Wylan blushed. Not due to embarrassment, per se, but rather at the way Jesper’s praise shot straight to his own pulsing erection and made him yearn to hear more of it.
“So…you want me to keep going?” he asked, running his closed fist over the length of the slick shaft.
Jesper’s head fell back against the headboard at the touch. “Saints, yes.”
Obediently, Wylan bent to take him tightly back into his mouth, sliding his head up and down, hoping to hell and back that it was still good, so good. Better than all the others. He felt Jesper’s fingers card gently, encouragingly, through his hair.
“Fuck, Wy,” Jesper groaned, “that’s - you’re perfect - don’t stop, don’t…”
Wylan moaned around him in response. His spare hand dipped urgently beneath the elastic waistband of his underwear, before moving over himself, fast and desperate, not caring how wanton it made him look. Because he had just rendered Jesper Fahey lost for words, and the thought made everything feel more intense, more wonderful.
Jesper drew in a sharp breath, shoving his hips forward before he came quite suddenly into Wylan’s mouth. It took Wylan by surprise, his eyes snapping wide open when he heard Jesper cry out, causing another powerful wave of pleasure to flow through him. He closed his eyes again and eagerly drank Jesper down, drawing out his orgasm, thrusting into his own hand until it all became too much and he was spilling out hot and wet.
He continued to lap at the tip of Jesper’s cock as the small spasms of pleasure slowly left his body. He felt long fingers tenderly smoothing his hair and lifted his head to see Jesper smiling down at him, eyes sparkling and looking thoroughly spent. Hoping not to draw attention to it, Wylan slid his hand out from his underwear and hastily wiped it on the ruined sheet.
“Did you…?” Jesper asked softly.
Wylan crawled up the side of Jesper’s body, pressing his cheek into the good side of Jesper’s chest. He nodded ruefully.
An arm wrapped itself around him. “That’s,” Jesper expelled a breathy laugh, “fuck, that’s hot.”
Wylan snorted. “It is?”
“No, Wy. That was awful. I hated every second of it, couldn’t you tell?”
Wylan nudged him with his leg in protest.
“Careful,” Jesper teased, “I’m still very delicate, remember?”
“Oh yes. Very delicate. Clearly.”
“I mean, I might not be able to get out of bed at all now.”
“What a shame for you.”
“You’ll have to go and get me a coffee. And maybe something to eat. Something from Black Star Bakery would be nice.”
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
There was a beat of silence before Jesper poked him in his side.
“Ow,” Wylan grinned in spite of himself, shifting to meet Jesper’s gaze.
“Go on,” he urged. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your poor injured boyfriend?”
The words struck a chord, although perhaps not in the way they were intended for. Jesper must have noticed a shift in Wylan’s expression, because he sobered somewhat.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Wylan said hastily. When Jesper rose an eyebrow at him, he sighed. “It’s just…I think that’s the first time you’ve called yourself that, since we stopped faking it.”
“Your boyfriend, you mean?”
Wylan nodded. “At least, as far as I know.”
“Oh,” Jesper pondered a moment, as Wylan internally cringed. “I guess so.”
“It’s not a big deal,” said Wylan, as casually as possible, “I just thought it was, you know, interesting.”
Jesper’s face softened, and he reached to pull Wylan towards him in a lazy, lingering kiss.
“We should get cleaned up and go downstairs,” Wylan said when they broke apart.
“Why?”
Jesper seemed genuinely confused. Wylan blinked at him.
“Kaz?”
“Ah,” Jesper said sheepishly, “I might have forgotten about that.”
It was ridiculous, but Wylan couldn’t help feeling a tad smug in that moment.
“Come on then, my poor injured boyfriend,” he smiled, “better find out what he wants.”
Kaz was hunched over a laptop at the dining table when they finally arrived downstairs, typing at the usual alarming speed. He didn’t look up or acknowledge them at all. The television in the adjacent living area was softly playing a 24-hour news channel. Wylan caught a name he recognised and edged closer to listen in.
“In developing news, prominent business entrepreneur Kurt Van Cornewal has been arrested, according to most recent reports,” the newsreader announced. “The newly appointed Chairman of the embattled Van Eck Enterprises was apprehended by the Stadwatch in the early hours of the morning. It is believed he was attempting to flee the country via a private boat chartered to Novyi Zem.”
An unflattering mug shot of Van Cornewal appeared on screen. He looked older and more haggard than Wylan remembered. He sensed Jesper coming to stand at his shoulder to watch the rest of the report.
“A Stadwatch spokesperson has refused to comment on whether the arrest was made in relation to the renewed allegations of human trafficking, money laundering and fraud directed at the company. Allegations which, we have heard, are becoming increasingly harder to deflect, due to the surfacing of damning new evidence. Earlier this week, corporate raids were carried out on Van Eck Enterprises by the Special Investigations Unit, as well as at the home of its late founder, Jan Van Eck. The heir to the Van Eck fortune and majority shareholder, Wylan Van Eck, is yet to comment publicly on any recent events, though Stadwatch say that he is cooperating with their investigation…”
“I didn’t think they’d move so fast on Van Cornewal,” Jesper murmured.
“The public is outraged,” Wylan answered. “I overheard some nurses talking about it at the hospital. Mass protests are being planned all over Kerch. People are out for blood. I suppose the Stadwatch needed to look like they were doing something.”
“I guess,” Jesper admitted. “They won’t be able to hold him for long though.”
“No,” Wylan agreed. He was no longer naive enough to believe the rich were held to the same standard of justice as everyone else.
Jesper gently touched his back, then strode in Kaz’s direction. Wylan lingered long enough to hear the beginnings of the next news story, accompanied by another mugshot. Geels, the leader of the infamous Black Tips, had also been arrested in conjunction with the Van Eck scandal. His eyes bore down on Wylan menacingly through the screen.
“What did you need us for?” Jesper was asking, leaning against a chair.
Kaz’s fingers refused to slow their pace.
“I’ve found Julissa’s killer,” he rasped. “I thought you’d want to know, if you ever deigned to leave your room.”
Wylan saw Jesper visibly wince. He stepped forward and placed a hand over Jesper’s own.
“You found them?” Wylan asked. A lump had formed in his chest. “Are you sure?”
Kaz stopped typing abruptly and glared at him. He turned his laptop screen around to face them both, revealing an image captured from a street security camera somewhere in the Barrel. A young woman stared into the camera from beneath a white hood, her eyes a cold blue, a braid of copper hair trailing over one shoulder. Something about her made Wylan’s skin crawl, though he couldn’t name what it was.
“They call her the White Blade,” Kaz explained. “She’s an assassin for hire, trained in the temples of Ahmrat Jen. Rumours of her secretive order are rife across Shu Han, although most believe it to be a myth. They can only be contacted by those with enough wealth to afford to hire them.”
Jesper frowned. “And who would hire an elusive deadly assassin to take out Julissa.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question. There was only one possible answer.
“She wasn’t hired to kill Julissa,” Wylan said quietly, “she was hired to find and kill Jordan Rietveld.”
“Jakob Hertzoon may have had her tailing Wylan for some time,” added Kaz.
“Genya suspected as much,” Jesper said. “Hertzoon must have known we were looking into things at Van Eck. He had his assassin follow us in the hopes of leading him to the whistleblower his goons had never been able to find.”
And that’s exactly what they had done. They had led her right to the door of her target. Wylan felt sick to his core. He caught a flash of Julissa again, bleeding out in front of him…
“Wylan.”
A firm hand gripped his shoulder. Without him realising it, Jesper had pulled out a chair and was lowering him into the seat. He kept his hand there long after Wylan sat down; it was the only thing tethering him to the here and now.
“I’ve had people out looking for her, including Inej,” Kaz said. “We can say for certain now that she has already left Ketterdam.”
“To go back to Shu Han, presumably?” Jesper asked.
Kaz nodded once. “The job she was hired for is now complete. The White Blade has no interest in personal vengeance. She won’t return here unless she is hired again.”
“So little chance of ever finding her, is what you’re saying.”
“As much chance as there is of me and Wylan here suddenly declaring fraternal love for each other and skipping off into the sunset.”
Jesper smiled wryly. “Damn. I’d quite like to see that.”
Wylan stared absently into the middle distance. No hope of tracking down Julissa’s murderer, their best chance at finally unmasking the identity of Jakob Hertzoon. No hope of Van Cornewal or any of the other board members being held accountable for their crimes, despite the mountains of evidence Julissa had spent a lifetime collecting and planting. No justice for Jordan Rietveld, the refugees from Bhez Ju, or any of the other thousands of victims whose lives had been destroyed in the name of a quick profit.
What had it all been for, then?
Jesper gently massaged his shoulder. “It’s Rollins,” he said, “it has to be. He was Jakob Hertzoon before he ever controlled a media empire. Everything he has today is built on dirty money.”
“Pekka Rollins?” Wylan said.
Jesper nodded. “Elzinger basically admitted it to me when I was his captive. Rollins was the one running the Black Tips and blackmailing Jan. He’s the one who ordered Jordie and Julissa dead. I’m sure of it.”
Kaz eyed him stoically. He didn’t seem surprised by these revelations.
“And how do you plan on accusing one of the world’s most powerful men of unspeakable crimes, Jes? We have no concrete evidence linking Rollins to Hertzoon. Anyone who knew is true identity is dead.”
Jesper frowned in thought. “Geels would know. He might talk, if we can get to him in prison.”
“He won’t survive long enough at Hellgate for that,” Kaz said. “We both know it.”
Jesper’s silence meant he knew that Kaz was right, Wylan recognised.
“Julissa’s hard drive?” he asked. “The one we got from the house in Lij?”
“Encrypted,” Kaz said. “I’m working on it, but it could take an age. And Julissa knew the Black Tips were after her; she wouldn’t have left anything valuable behind when she fled.”
It truly was hopeless, then. And if it was Pekka - if he knew they were so close to exposing him - then it meant none of them were safe. The only thing that might protect Wylan was his name and status. If he turned up dead, there would be questions. But what would protect the others?
Who would protect the Bhez Ju refugees who dared to tell their story? Who would protect Genya and her husband for printing the truth? Who would protect Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias? The Julissa’s and the Jordie’s of the world who came forward to do what was right?
Who was capable of protecting the man he loved?
Wylan took a deep, shuddering breath. Every muscle in his body clenched, his jaw taunt. Battle ready. He recalled the words Kaz had spoken to him what felt like a lifetime ago.
Everyone carries weapons. Some are just more obvious than others.
“I have an idea,” he said.
He drew his wallet from his pocket and began rifling through it. Searching for the one card he had left to play.
“It better not involve putting yourself in danger,” Jesper said warily.
“Not if I do it right.”
Wylan’s fingers closed around a small, square object. He clenched it in his palm, the sharp corners jutting into soft flesh.
Kaz was watching him closely. Wylan knew him well enough now to sense he was more interested than he conveyed. Meeting his gaze directly, he repeated his own words back to him.
“What do you do, Kaz, when you know you can’t beat the odds?”
Kaz’s dark eyes fell to the card in Wylan’s hand, then back to his face. Then, as if in some bizarre dream, the corners of his mouth twisted into something vaguely resembling a smile.
“You change the rules of the game,” he said.
Wylan lifted his phone, ignoring the indiscernible letters, and punched in the phone number on the business card he held.
“Pekka Rollins’ office,” the receptionist said.
“This is Wylan Van Eck,” he told her. “Please tell Mr. Rollins I’m ready to give him that exclusive interview he wanted.”