“Yes, Boss.”

Terry walked up the stairs, into the grey law offices that had hidden the oldest of his sire’s hideaways. The Temple building had been Winthrop’s place for the nasty business. The place he hadn’t utilized near enough in the years Terry had been with him. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t be…

He took a moment to lean against the wall, momentarily overwhelmed by his grief. The tears leaked from the corners of his eyes unashamedly. He’d loved Francis Winthrop as a father. The man had taken him in as a human, trained him, educated him, trying to mold the rough human into a loyal guard. He’d seen potential in a way that no other had. Then, he’d turned him into the powerful creature Terry had become. And now his sire was no more.

He heard a soft shuffle of feet at the door. She was letting him know she was there. As if her amnis hadn’t already announced her. As if the reaction of his body hadn’t already given her away. The office door opened and he lifted bloody eyes to Gemma Melcombe. They stood for a moment, staring at each other. What was there to say?

“I am so terribly sorry about Francis.” She looked it, too. Good acting? Or something sincere? It wasn’t often the Ice Queen let her emotions out of the tight little box she’d perfected. He envied her that. Terry waved away the guard so they had some privacy.

“Where have you been?”

“Out of town, helping my father with a new member of our clan.”

“For a year?”

She stepped forward, and Terry caught a glimpse of her slight figure underneath the pale blue dress. The current fashions suited her refined beauty. Everything suited her. Always had. “Feel free to verify that, if you must, but I had nothing to do with Francis’s death. And even if I’d been here, I never suspected—”

“Aye, none of us did.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and moved to the desk at the center of the room, trying to ignore his reaction to her. Over fifty years acquaintance had proven it was not something she shared. Still, unlike the others he dealt with lately, Gemma had been a true, if wary, friend of Winthrop’s. “Why are you here, Ms. Melcombe?”

“You have a boy in custody.”

“I have many in custody. They’re mine by conquest.”

“No one is disputing that. I came here to ask for mercy.”

The Ice Queen wanted a favor of him? His grieving heart wanted to reject it. His brain told him to hear her out.

“Who is it?”

“A kinsman’s youngest son. A member of my clan. He is… young. And not the most circumspect in his connections.”

“You could say that. The name?”

“Rene. Rene Dupont. He is my brother Guy’s youngest child.”

“How do you know I haven’t killed him already?”

She paused. “Have you?”

Terry held her blue eyes for a few long moments. “No.”

“Then I ask for mercy.”

“Why should I give him mercy? I’ve killed everyone even remotely connected with my sire’s death. Why should he be different?”

“He is only twenty years immortal. He fell in with foolish friends, but he has no ambition. I promise, he was not a part of the plot to murder your sire. He was drawn in by his crowd. That is all.”

Terry leaned back and closed his eyes. If he could feel exhausted, he would. As it was, it was summer and the nights were short. He had little time to deal with the problems in front of him before his human security would have to take over.

“Ms. Melcombe—”

“Terry.” She stepped forward, her eyes pleading. “Francis was my friend. I would never intervene if I thought the boy had anything to do with his death. Guy is frantic. He will make restitution for his son’s actions. His business in France is not insubstantial, nor is his influence. He can offer money—”

“I don’t want your bloody money.” His voice was low and furious. “Is that why you’re here? To offer me money?”

Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“From your brother? Nothing.” He didn’t need allies in France, but for the clan of Carwyn ap Bryn to owe the new leader of London a favor…

He could almost see Gemma’s mind working behind her clear gaze. “Who then? My father? You want his support? You’re the new leader of London. You’re young.” Her face came alive at the political manipulations. “If you agree to release Rene, my father could throw his support behind you. My brother in Ireland—”

“You’ve powerful family in Scotland, as well.” Terry should have known she’d figure it out quickly. So smart. His blood stirred at the sight of her.

“I do.” Her eyes lit in triumph. “So, do we have a deal? Rene’s freedom for the tacit approval of your succession?”

Such a clever girl. Was it wrong that he wanted to ruffle her just to get a reaction?

“No.”

She blinked in surprise. “No?”

“No.” He felt a tickling on his cheek. It was the blood of his most recent victim starting to dry. He wiped it away with the back of his fingers, knowing a smear of red would remain. Good. Let her see it. “I have the city. I don’t need your clan’s approval.”

“We’re not offering approval, Mr. Ramsay—”

“Good. I was Winthrop’s son and second for over sixty years. I avenged his death. I have killed the majority of my enemies in front of the city’s population. I do not need your approval to take over.”