Chapter 8
The standoff in the luminous, airy cemetery was suffocatingly tense. The soft, elegant warmth of the afternoon sun glinted off the polished black paint of the SUVs and the cold steel of the drawn weapons. Tristan’s men stood perfectly still, their training keeping them locked in lethal readiness. Arthur Ames’s mercenaries shifted nervously, clearly aware that they had walked into a highly disciplined meat grinder.
Sage stood directly behind Tristan, her hands gripping the fabric of his dark overcoat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but the sheer, unwavering strength of the man shielding her kept her from collapsing in panic.
"You think you can insult my family and walk away?" Arthur shouted, his face reddening as he stepped forward, flanked by two armed guards. "Cordelia came home weeping! She said you threw her out like trash over a piece of ragged lace!"
"Do you believe the desecration of a dying woman's burial garment is a trivial matter?" Tristan asked, his deep, low voice carrying effortlessly across the green expanse.
"It was a mistake!" Arthur argued, waving a dismissive hand. "You are breaking an alliance that controls the eastern seaboard over a maid! Give her to me, Tristan. Let me take the girl, and we can forget this ever happened. We can reforge the alliance."
Sage gasped, her fingers tightening desperately on Tristan's coat. Arthur Ames wanted her life in exchange for peace.
Tristan’s sharply defined jawline clenched. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as his grip on his handgun tightened. He did not look at Sage, but he shifted his powerful shoulders, obscuring her completely from Arthur’s view.
"Do you truly believe I would hand an innocent woman over to a pack of rabid dogs?" Tristan asked.
"She is a servant!" Arthur roared, completely losing his temper. "She is nothing! You are willing to go to war, to lose your men, your territory, over nothing?"
"Is a woman who shows more honor in one night than your daughter has shown in a lifetime considered 'nothing'?" Tristan asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly register.
Arthur’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. He raised his hand, signaling his mercenaries to prepare to fire.
"If you don't hand her over, we will shoot you both right here, over this open grave!" Arthur threatened, his voice echoing off the surrounding headstones.
"Have you counted the rifles currently aimed at your head, Arthur?" Tristan asked smoothly.
Arthur paused, his eyes darting to the tree line. Tristan’s heavily armed operatives had flanked the Ames vehicles perfectly, possessing the high ground and superior cover. If a firefight broke out, Arthur and his men would be slaughtered in seconds.
"You are surrounded, Arthur," Tristan continued, his measured pauses acting like psychological blows. "Do you wish to die today, or will you get back into your vehicle and leave my property?"
"This isn't your property!" Arthur spat.
"Is there anywhere I stand that I do not own?" Tristan asked, raising his handgun a fraction of an inch, the intent to kill radiating clearly from his cold, perceptive eyes.
Arthur Ames swallowed hard, the bravado draining from his fair, rosy skin. He was a businessman who played at being a gangster; Tristan Lockwood was a warlord who happened to wear a suit. The difference was absolute and terrifying.
"This isn't over, Tristan," Arthur warned, slowly lowering his hand. "We will burn your businesses. We will sink your ships."
"Are you capable of fighting a war you have already lost?" Tristan asked.
Arthur didn't answer. He turned and climbed quickly back into his SUV. The mercenaries lowered their weapons and retreated to their vehicles. The tires spun on the gravel as the four SUVs reversed rapidly, tearing out of the cemetery gates and disappearing down the winding rural road.
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Tristan slowly lowered his weapon, clicking the safety on with a smooth, practiced motion before slipping it back into his shoulder holster. He turned around to face Sage.
"Are you unharmed?" Tristan asked, his cold eyes immediately softening as he looked down at her pale, beautiful face.
