"Boss?" Moz's voice came muffled through the phone.
Vincent stepped over to the window of his room and let his gaze drift across the nighttime skyline. The city lights reflected coldly in the glass, while behind him there was only the steady sound of the shower.
"I want you to make the guy in the basement disappear. No one is ever supposed to find him again, understood?" he said calmly.
"Understood. I'll take care of it immediately."
"Good. And tell Lucy to put Ashe's files on my desk. I'll look them over tomorrow morning."
"I'll let her know." Moz fell silent for a moment, as if debating whether he should really ask the next question. "Good luck with your mission. I hope he goes along with it."
A cool smile spread across Vincent's lips.
Muted sobs and the monotonous patter of water drifted from the bathroom. Apparently, his pretty cop still hadn't stopped crying.
"When has one of my plans ever gone wrong?" Vincent asked quietly. "Don't worry, I've got him exactly where I want him."
He didn't think Benedict could hear him, but caution was still better than carelessness. That was the only reason he had been able to protect and lead the clan so effectively all these years. Besides, his plans rarely failed, and hardly any of his assassins had ever lost their lives.
"I don't want to be disturbed by anyone, understood?" Vincent said, already about to hang up when another thought occurred to him. "Have someone bring up a small dinner and two bottles of wine. Preferably right away. I don't want him seeing any of you."
"Understood."
The line went dead.
Vincent set his phone to silent, forwarded all calls to Lucy, and then slid the device into the bedside drawer. He didn't want any more interruptions tonight.
The sound of running water still came from the bathroom, so he took the opportunity to pick out some suitable clothes for Benedict.
He chose something comfortable, though all of his clothes would probably be a little too big for the well-built police officer. He chuckled softly and laid the clothes out on the bed. Benedict was supposed to feel comfortable — besides, he wouldn't be wearing them for very long anyway.
Because Vincent already had a very clear idea of how this night would end — and how the next few days would have to unfold.
He was patient. Always had been.
People couldn't be broken by force. You had to understand their weaknesses, their fears, their desires. You had to give them something before you took everything away. In the cop's case, however, he had to give him something so that, in the end, he would do exactly what Vincent wanted.
Vincent was exceptionally good at that.
A glance at his watch told him enough time had passed by now. He took the watch off, loosened the collar of his shirt, and finally stepped up to the bathroom door.
He knocked gently.
"Everything okay, Ben? Do you need anything?"
No answer. The water was still running.
"Ben?"
He waited another moment. Then he pressed down the handle.
"I'm coming in, okay?"
Slowly, he opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.
The air was hot and heavy with steam. The mirror was completely fogged over, and the scent of shampoo and hot water lingered thickly in the room. Vincent switched on the ventilation before moving closer to the shower.
Behind the frosted glass, he could finally make out Benedict's silhouette.
The police officer was crouched on the shower floor, arms wrapped tightly around his legs while the hot water poured endlessly over him.
Vincent had expected getting his revenge would break Benedict in a way. He had been observing him ever since the first time he looked into his eyes. What had started as interest had turned into a plan. There truly was no one better suited for his plans than Benedict.
Especially in this state, he could shape the pretty cop exactly the way he needed him.
After all, Vincent was the head of the Webster clan. He knew perfectly well how to use other people's emotions for his own purposes.
A small part of him did feel sorry about it. After their night together, he had wished they had met under different circumstances. However, he wasn't stupid enough to place his own feelings above the welfare of the clan.
And as long as he was enjoying himself with him, that was fine — for however long it lasted.
Besides, he genuinely did care about the cop in some way, so lying to the man in front of him wouldn't even be difficult.
"Hey," he said softly as he pulled the shower door open. "If you turn the water any hotter, you'll end up cooked like a lobster."
Benedict barely reacted.
He sat slumped on the shower floor, his forehead resting against his knees. Water dripped down his face and ran over his shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice it at all. His eyes were red and slightly swollen.
His gaze was… empty.
Perfect.
Vincent turned off the water and reached for a large towel. Slowly, he knelt down in front of Benedict and draped the fabric over his shoulders. Instantly, Benedict's fingers tightened around it, as though he needed something — anything — to hold on to.
Carefully, Vincent brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" he asked quietly. "Honestly, I'd rather not leave you alone in this condition."
Benedict slowly lifted his head and looked at him. Then he let out a quiet snort, exhausted and bitter.
"Not really in the mood," he muttered hoarsely.
A faint smile crossed Vincent's face.
"I told you sex was optional."
Benedict studied him for a long moment, as though trying to figure out whether Vincent was messing with him or actually telling the truth.
"You are by far the weirdest guy I've ever met."
"That's not the first time I've heard that," Vincent replied with amusement.
Apparently, there was still a spark of fight left in Benedict. Even so, he didn't move an inch. Instead, he lowered his head back onto his knees.
Vincent watched him silently.
From this close, Benedict suddenly looked younger than he really was. Not like an experienced cop, but like someone who was simply tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of always having to be strong.
"What's wrong?" Vincent finally asked gently. "Do you want me to carry you to bed?"
Benedict let out a quiet, dry huff.
"Absolutely not."
"What am I supposed to do with you then?" Vincent asked. "I could try to help you relax a little before you go to sleep."
Benedict looked up at him again. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself. Then he cursed quietly under his breath.
"Can we…," he began hesitantly. "Can we just talk?"
The question surprised Vincent more than it should have.
And yet he nodded immediately.
"I was thinking more along the lines of a massage," Vincent said with a faint smile. "But if you want to talk, we can do that too."
Maybe this was actually going to be easier than expected.
Benedict weakly shook his head.
"I just want to talk to someone who saw all this shit happen." His voice sounded rough. "Hell, because of you I can't even talk to my friends about it."
Vincent held out his hand.
"Are you coming out of the shower? It'd be a shame if you caught a cold and got sick."
Benedict looked at him for a moment but said nothing. Finally, he took his hand. Vincent helped him to his feet and gave him a moment to dry off and get dressed. Meanwhile, he waited cross-legged on the bed, watching with quiet regret as the police officer hid his well-built body beneath the clothes Vincent had laid out for him.
Benedict sighed when he looked at the bed.
"Can't I sleep somewhere else?" he muttered.
"I can hardly let a cop wander freely around my hideout," Vincent replied with a smile. "And you don't exactly look like someone who wants to sleep in his apartment tonight."
"Figures," Benedict snorted.
"How about you sit down with me and we do what you asked for? Unless I'm mistaken, you wanted to talk."
Benedict hesitated for another moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed — as far away from Vincent as he seemingly could.
Vincent looked at him expectantly. He could already guess what this pretty cop wanted to talk about, but it wasn't his job to drag every word out of him.
If Benedict wanted to talk, then he had to make the first move. Otherwise, something like trust could never grow between them — and trust was the most important thing Vincent needed from him.
Without trust, the plan would never work.
Benedict finally looked up at him. Silence lingered between them for several seconds before Benedict quietly cursed.
"I wish I'd never met you," he said softly.
"Why?" Vincent asked, tilting his head slightly. "I thought you'd been searching for that man for a long time."
"I had," Benedict admitted. He looked away, staring at his scabbed knuckles. "I just didn't think revenge could feel so pointless."
"Was it?" Vincent asked, taking Benedict's hand in his own. "You tracked down your lover's killer and killed him. To me, that sounds like a victory, and yet you look as though it was a defeat."
Benedict looked at him, so many emotions reflected in his gaze at once that Vincent could barely name a single one clearly. There was anger, confusion, grief, and pain. So much pain that even Vincent could feel it.
The way Benedict looked now, Vincent had probably looked the same when his parents died and he had suddenly been forced to lead the clan. Overnight, his entire world had been turned upside down. He had felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath his feet.
Benedict had to be feeling something similar. True, he didn't have a clan to lead, and his fiancé had been dead for quite some time now. But Vincent knew from reliable sources how Benedict had spent the months after his fiancé's death.
By fulfilling his revenge, he had achieved the very thing he had spent months pursuing. Practically nothing else had existed for him besides hunting down the murderer. Vincent had seen the whiteboard in his apartment, along with everything written in his notebook. He had checked his tablet and had Ashe investigate the rest.
No wonder the man had fallen into a hole that kept trying to drag him deeper, even while they sat there talking.
Benedict pressed his lips together and avoided Vincent's gaze.
"Because it doesn't feel like a victory," he finally muttered.
Vincent did not miss how deeply hurt he was. Benedict's hand trembled slightly in his, even if he no longer seemed to let his emotions show as openly as he had in the shower, where he had believed himself unobserved.
So Vincent gently brushed his thumb over the back of the policeman's hand, subtly trying to offer him a sense of closeness.
"Let me tell you a little story," he finally said.
Benedict looked up at him, irritated.
"A story?"
"Mhm."
"Vincent—"
But Vincent gently pressed a finger against his lips.
"Just listen."
For a moment, Benedict looked like he wanted to protest, but then he gave in with quiet exhaustion.
Vincent lowered his hand again and leaned back slightly.
"Once upon a time, there was a little boy," he began softly, "who desperately wanted to grow up quickly. And who ended up having to grow up much faster than planned."
Benedict frowned faintly.
"That boy admired his father. To him, the man was invincible. Tall as a tree, strong enough to protect his family with his bare hands." A faint smile flickered across Vincent's lips. "So the boy trained every single day. He wanted to become just like him."
For a brief moment, his gaze drifted somewhere into the past.
"When he was eight years old, he got a little brother. And suddenly, his world became bigger. For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to be responsible for someone else."
Vincent leaned back against the bed as he thought of those long-forgotten days.
"He taught his brother everything he learned himself. How to fight. How to get back up after falling. How not to show fear, even when you feel it." His voice grew quieter. "And at some point, he realized that growing up takes time. No matter how badly you want to rush it."
Silence settled between them for a moment.
"One day, the boy's parents suddenly died. They were taken from him by a man who harbored a deep hatred for them and feared them just as much."
The words hung heavily in the room.
His gaze fell on Benedict, who was watching him closely.
"So at only eleven years old, that boy was forced to take his father's place and become an adult. Exactly as he had always wished. His brother had been three years old when it happened, and even so, the boy did everything he could to protect what remained of his family and his clan."
His eyes briefly drifted into emptiness again, as though reliving the memory.
A short, heavy silence formed between them.
Then Benedict sighed quietly.
"Did that boy get his revenge?"
Vincent smiled faintly.
"No," he answered honestly. "But he'll get it soon."
Benedict held his gaze for a moment before slowly exhaling and rubbing a tired hand over his face.
"How the hell did you manage to live with that for so long?"
Vincent gave a slight shrug.
"It wasn't always easy." His voice remained calm. "Especially because I knew who murdered my parents from a very early age." He paused briefly. "But my parents weren't the only ones who died that night."
Benedict frowned.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Isaac lost his family that same night."
Benedict blinked in confusion.
"…What?"
Vincent nodded slowly.
"Isaac was only a few months old back then, and he was kidnapped." His expression noticeably hardened. "That bastard made him disappear before we even understood what had happened. And by the time we finally knew where he was, we couldn't get to him anymore."
His voice darkened.
"He manipulated him from the time he was a little boy and kept him by his side like a loyal lapdog," Vincent continued. "I could have simply sacrificed Isaac. I could have killed the man who murdered my family."
He looked at Benedict with quiet regret. That, too, was a carefully calculated move on his part.
"But Isaac would have been lost in that case, and I didn't want that. After all, he belongs to our clan."
Benedict's emotions shifted from surprise to anger and finally confusion.
"Wait." He abruptly raised a hand, as though he physically needed to stop Vincent in order to sort through his thoughts. "Hold on a second."
Vincent remained silent patiently.
"Are we talking about the same guy," Benedict asked slowly, "that Isaac's been calling his father this whole time?"
Vincent nodded calmly.
Of course that caught your attention, Vincent thought with satisfaction. Even if it irritated him somewhat that the cop still looked as though he hadn't entirely given up on Isaac yet.
Benedict looked away thoughtfully.
"So the bastard who pushed Isaac into all those crimes…," he muttered under his breath.
Vincent studied Benedict, who now sat on the edge of the bed, completely lost in thought as he processed the information Vincent had given him.
Originally, Vincent had expected to seduce Benedict. It was a shame that wouldn't happen tonight. Still, it wasn't a bad alternative that he could appeal to the man's sympathy instead. Hadn't Benedict fallen in love with Isaac? Maybe he would help with the Leviathan cartel if it meant helping Isaac get his revenge.
It was worth a try.
"We'll finally bring him down soon," Vincent said calmly. "Now that Isaac is back with us, we can finally put an end to that bastard and expose every last one of his operations."
Benedict frowned slightly.
"That doesn't sound like you're planning to just make him disappear in the shadows."
"His roots run too deep for that." Vincent loosely crossed his arms. "He has his claws everywhere in Magnolia." His gaze turned colder. "When he falls, it'll be in public."
Benedict watched him carefully.
"Who is it? You said you know who's behind all this."
Slowly, a satisfied smile spread across Vincent's face.
Good.
His interest was piqued.
"The boss of the Leviathan cartel."
For a moment, there was absolute silence.
Then Benedict's eyes widened noticeably.
"You're kidding me."
"No."
Vincent leaned back slightly and carefully observed how Benedict tried to process the information.
"He's the man who brought all this misery to our city," Vincent continued calmly. "Drugs, weapons trafficking, human trafficking, corruption — practically every major piece of filth in Magnolia eventually leads back to him."
His voice sharpened.
"I want him removed from our beautiful city, and I want it done at the highest level."
He looked at Benedict intently.
"By that, I mean the police."
Benedict ran a stressed hand through his face and exhaled audibly. You could practically see his thoughts racing.
Then he slowly placed a hand on Vincent's forearm.
The touch was obviously unconscious.
"You seriously expect me to believe that you know who's behind the Leviathan cartel? That man is basically Magnolia's biggest mystery."
Vincent shrugged. "As I said, I've been after him for a very long time. I have all the evidence needed to destroy him and every one of his operations."
His gaze locked onto Benedict.
"Would you help me," Vincent finally asked quietly, "put that bastard behind bars for a very long time?"
Benedict let out a dry snort.
"I can't just work together with a criminal."
Vincent smiled faintly.
"Didn't we just make a deal a little while ago?"
Benedict waved him off in annoyance.
"That was personal."
"Ben," Vincent said calmly, "this mission would rid Magnolia of its worst criminal."
Benedict looked at him with obvious skepticism.
"You're a criminal too."
"Yes," Vincent admitted without hesitation. "But I'm one of the good ones."
Another dry snort escaped Benedict.
"Of course you are."
Vincent grinned faintly.
"You'd be surprised how low the bar in this city has sunk by now."
Despite everything, the corner of Benedict's mouth twitched ever so slightly.
And that tiny moment alone told Vincent that he was slowly winning.
"Benedict, we Websters prefer to operate in the shadows. Power was never my goal."
Benedict slowly raised an eyebrow and studied him with open skepticism now.
"Of course. And I suppose you're also a sincere, trustworthy guy I should blindly believe in."
"You wouldn't just be helping me, but Isaac as well," Vincent replied with a smile. "Think of it as a kind of compensation after you almost killed him."
Benedict's expression hardened for a moment. He let out an audible breath and ran an annoyed hand through his hair.
"And if I don't help you, how are you going to do it?"
"Probably in a way you won't like."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Benedict's tone sharpened.
Vincent leaned back casually.
"I'll leave that to your imagination."
Benedict stared at Vincent as if trying to decide whether he was bluffing or already had several cruel alternatives in mind.
Finally, he let out a resigned snort.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm making another deal with the devil?"
"It's not nearly as bad as you're making it out to be. So?"
Benedict let his head sink against the backrest.
"Okay," he muttered reluctantly. "What do I have to do?"
"I'll explain tomorrow morning. When the others are there." Vincent shot him a brief glance. "For tonight, we should sleep."
Benedict looked at him suspiciously.
"You're really not going to try anything?" he asked cautiously.
"Should I try something?" Vincent asked with an innocent grin.
Benedict looked uncertain for a moment, then shook his head.
"Can I just lie down next to you?" he murmured, embarrassed.
Vincent smiled and held out an arm. "Come here, pretty boy."
Benedict snorted softly.
"Has anyone ever told you that your smile is more unsettling than comforting?"
Vincent nodded seriously.
"Several times. I've even made children cry with it before."
Benedict blinked in confusion.
"With your smile?"
"One time, a kid actually thought I was trying to rob him just because I picked up his hat after he dropped it." Vincent's mouth twitched in amusement. "His older brother immediately stepped in front of him protectively, like I was about to run off with him."
Benedict let out a tired snort.
"You're an asshole," he muttered wearily. "But thanks for helping me catch the murderer."
Vincent fell silent for a moment. His gaze drifted toward the dark ceiling.
That had been easier than expected.
"You're welcome. How about venting a little? Earlier it sounded like there was quite a lot you wanted to throw at my head."
Benedict let out an amused sound. He hesitated for a little while longer, then began talking about everything that had been weighing on him ever since his fiancé had died. Vincent listened quietly until Benedict eventually fell asleep in his arms from exhaustion.
He did feel guilty about using the pretty cop for his own purposes, but at least he had given him a new mission — a new goal.
So it was a win-win situation for both of them, wasn't it?