The Contract

Chapter 178-The Angle

TRAVIS'S P.O.V

The heavy doors creaked open, and we all turned our attention toward the figure stepping in. Miller froze for a fraction of a second, his sharp gaze scanning the room, trying to piece together what awaited him. But understanding would be futile.

Because, like everyone before him, his undoing would come swift and unexpected.

I exhaled a slow puff of smoke, tapping the ash from my cigar onto the tray. His measured footsteps echoed as he approached the table. For a moment, his eyes locked with mine, and I caught the flicker of defiance hardening into something colder.

"To what do I owe this...invitation?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion. His attention shifted to the three committee members seated beside me, their expressions unyielding.

"Take a seat," Dominic commanded. Miller hesitated, glancing my way, but I offered nothing—a silent spectator waiting for the inevitable. He finally sank into the chair opposite us.

"The Committee called. I’ve answered," he said, his tone laced with mock compliance.

"We should have called sooner," Josephine said, her gaze sharp enough to cut. I leaned back, savoring another drag of the cigar, letting the tension in the room coil tighter.

"Am I being considered for a seat at the table?" Miller asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"That’s unlikely," Donaldson replied, his voice devoid of humor as he tossed a file onto the table. Miller’s eyes flicked to it before he rose, cautiously picking it up.

"You were in Berlin this past September," Donaldson began, his tone pointed.

Miller’s smirk faltered. "The Society spies on its own now?"

"This isn’t spying," Josephine snapped. "It’s keeping an eye out."

A tense silence followed, the weight of it pressing down on the room. Finally, Miller relented. "Yes, I was in Berlin."

"You met with the Ember," Donaldson said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Miller’s gaze snapped up. "And what led you to that conclusion?"

"What other explanation is there?" Josephine fired back, her tone razor-sharp. "You were seen with Malachi, the Don of the Syndicates, on multiple occasions."

"He’s a business partner," Miller retorted, his composure slipping.

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. "Business? You also attended a summit in Cyprus, where you transported a case to Leon, the Don of the Vipers. That same day, we were ambushed in Greece."

The color drained from Miller’s face, his composure crumbling.

"You sold us out," Josephine accused, her voice rising with fury.

"That’s impossible to prove," Miller shot back, but his voice lacked conviction.

"You supplied the enemy with our whereabouts!" she shouted, slamming her hands onto the table. The force of her anger reverberated through the room.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Miller’s eyes darted around the table, seeking an escape where none existed. Slowly, Josephine sat back, her gaze never leaving him.

I blew another stream of smoke into the air, the moment dragging like the final seconds of a ticking clock.

"You know what we do to traitors," Dominic said, his voice low and lethal. "Especially those we once trusted."

Fear flickered across Miller’s face—a fleeting crack in his mask of confidence.

"I can explain—"