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form of justice against men who abused women, considering Flintock was the man who beat, raped, and then murdered Seb’s own mother.

Death had been too good for a man such as he, so rather than kill him, Seb had made certain that not only would Edward Flintock himself have a permanent and daily reminder of the consequences of daring to inflict such pain and horror upon Seb’s mother, but so would everyone else in the Rookeries.

Seb had lost his mind for a period that day. Raging in grief and guilt, he’d been like a monster possessed when he finally caught the man and let his fury reign. To this day, even Seb was still fearful of what he’d become in those moments, as the picture of his mother’s bruised, broken, and bloodied body had been so clear in his mind, feeding his vengeance.

And the visual reminder of the injuries and permanent damage Seb had inflicted upon the man to ensure that not only would Edward Flintock be reminded every day of what he’d done, but that he also could never harm another person again, had served as a remarkably effective warning to anyone else who dared to think of harming something of Seb’s.

It also served as a warning to Seb himself, to never lose control like that again.

He shook himself free of the dark memories, and without any fanfare, Seb told them the plan and who they were targeting. “We shall show them what happens when they dare to go after our territory and kill innocent women in the process.”

The men roared in agreement, all of them eager to wage a war against this rival gang. Just as Seb knew they would be.

After all, his men had grown up in the hell of the Rookeries, most having to scrape and fight for survival their entire lives. But when Seb had taken over, and brought order to the chaos, life had become a lot better, with the men actually getting paid to work for him. And Seb was a generous employer, so much so that all gathered around him were loyal to a fault.

“All right then.” Seb glanced at his fob watch briefly. “We shall launch our attack in five minutes. Prepare yourselves and your weapons.”

He’d ensured that a commotion on the other side of the Rookeries would draw away the local police’s attention, leaving them to do what they had to down here.

Lance walked up to him. “Where’s Rowan? I would have thought he’d be here to be part of this.”

“He’ll be here shortly.” Seb glanced at his watch and noted there were three minutes left until eight o’clock. “I sent him on an errand to ensure Lady Olivia and Charlotte were safe, but he knows to return here at this hour.”

“Charlotte?” Lance blinked, his eyes full of shock. “You told him about Charlotte?”

“I did,” Seb confirmed. Lance was the only other person who knew about her. “Why? Do you think he cannot be trusted?”

Lance blew out a deep sigh. “At the end of the day, who really knows who can be trusted? You and I are both well aware what power and money can do to a person. It can corrupt them and make them do things they never thought possible. I can’t imagine that happening with Rowan, but one never knows.”

Seb had to agree. That was partly the reason why he rarely trusted anyone.

Just then, Rowan sprinted through the men and ran toward Lance and Sebastian as if the very devil was chasing him.

Seb had never seen such trepidation in the lad’s eyes before. Instantly, he knew something was wrong, very wrong indeed. “Tell me.”

“They’ve been taken,” Rowan panted.

For a moment, there was silence, and everything around Seb shrunk away as he was transported back to the fateful moment he’d learned his mother had been kidnapped, and he’d been too late to do anything to save her.

The mountain of rage and the unreasoning devastation he’d buried deep within all those years ago was getting ready to erupt like a volcano. But not yet. He had to keep his head clear for a little bit longer.

“What do you mean taken?” It was Lance who asked the question. “Both of them? And by whom?”

“Yes,” Rowan replied. “The Lads have kidnapped both Lady Olivia and Charlotte, using Seb’s own carriage. I found our men’s bodies in the alleyway behind the modiste, their throats slashed. God rest their souls.”

“Clearly, they are after a war, killing our men.” Lance’s mouth drew into a hard line.

It felt like every single inch of Sebastian’s body braced itself upon hearing the news, and a deep simmering rage that had long been buried kindled into a bonfire. “Where have they been taken?”

“To the warehouse we’re about to storm, maybe a half hour ago. Our scouts saw the ladies being escorted there in your carriage and marched inside, with Lady Olivia stumbling on the way, her cane nowhere in sight, so one of them started dragging her.”

“They took her cane from her?” Seb’s voice was glacial. Cold, formal, and precise, and everyone took an unconscious step away from him. He gritted his jaw to stop the yell of wrath from escaping his lips. Soon he could unleash his inner demon and all hell be damned, but not just yet.

Rowan simply nodded.

“Once we attack them, I want whoever it was who dragged her inside, found and brought to me. Alive.” The man had to be alive to appreciate the punishment Seb had in store for him.

“Aye,” Rowan said.

“The rest of you,” Seb addressed his other men who had gathered around watching. “You will show these vermin what happens when they dare touch what is mine and kill our men. And you will show them in any way you see fit. But leave their leader, who calls himself Orestes and has a purple snake on his neck, for me.” He drew his lips back in a snarl.

He turned to Lance and Rowan. “They want a war? They shall have it.

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