“I talked to Afon last night,” he says ominously.
That makes me sit up straight. Mat doesn’t speak to his uncle unless he absolutely has to. Not since the night he cut ties with the family business and struck out on his own. Which means whatever dragged him back to Afon’s orbit was bad enough to override every principle he’s spent the last decade constructing.
“On purpose?” I ask, still unsure.
“He called me.” Mat’s jaw tightens. “And before you say anything—yes, I know. I know what I said. I know what I said I wanted. But you need to hear this.”
“Your father contracted someone to kill Jillian.”
“Afon told me. Last week, after the thing in Brooklyn.”
“Then why the f**k are you sitting here instead of—” He stops himself, pinches the bridge of his nose, and recalibrates. “Kir, man, lis
