TO LATE TO BEG, SISTER

CHAPTER 3: THE TRUTH BEHIND THE VANCE NAME

"Get out of here before you regret it, Garrick."

Julian said it almost quietly. The room went so still that the rain on the windows sounded loud.

Garrick didn't let go of Aira's wrist. He stared at the young man in the soaked suit, searching his memory. The clothes were cheap. The face was pale. But that calm, fearless stare kept dragging him back to a banquet he had once snuck into at the Vance estate—this same young man standing among the guests, serving the Vance sisters with a silver tray. At the time, Garrick had marked him as a favorite valet of London's most powerful family.

"You're… the Vances' servant," Garrick said slowly, not sure whether to be relieved or cautious.

Before Julian could answer, boots clicked sharply against the wet pavement outside, and a new voice cut in from the doorway.

"What is all this commotion!"

Siska stood at the threshold, New Scotland Yard uniform pressed to a knife-edge, taking in the room with a cold sweep. Her gaze stopped on Julian, and her face twisted.

"Julian? To think I'd find you in a place like this."

Julian looked at his third adoptive sister without expression. "Siska."

"Don't you dare call me by my name." She stepped inside, arms folding themselves. "You left the Vance residence tonight. You are nobody. You have no right to address me."

Seeing the inspector's uniform, Garrick's grin returned, wide and cunning. He stepped forward, hands open, the picture of an injured party.

"Inspector Vance! Thank goodness you're here. We're businessmen collecting a legitimate debt, and this young man has been threatening us and obstructing our work."

"His interest rates are illegal," Aira shot back, glaring at Siska. "The £100,000 is a fiction. They're extorting us."

Siska didn't glance at her. "A signed contract is a signed contract. I enforce the law, girl, not feelings. I have closed two hundred cases at the Yard, and I know what extortion looks like. This is not it." Her eyes stayed on Julian. "A debt is a debt. Don't play the defender of criminals, Julian. Orphanage trash always finds an excuse to wriggle out of an obligation. I have never been wrong about a suspect in my life, and I am not wrong now."

"Siska, they came in with violence," Julian said. "I'm telling you this once. Look at what's actually happening here."

"Shut your mouth." She looked around the room once, as if the matter were already closed. "Whatever this is, it ends now. I have never been handed a problem I could not solve, and I did not come here to start." She turned to Garrick. "This man was expelled from the Vance residence tonight. He is no longer a member of our family and has no protection under the Vance name. Do what you like with him if he causes trouble."

George stared at her. "Miss Vance! Julian is your brother! How can you—"

"He is not my brother," Siska said. "He is a stray my late father picked up out of pity. And I am an inspector of New Scotland Yard. I do not have criminals for brothers."

She closed the distance and yanked Julian's wet collar. His hand came up, not to stop her, but to steady her elbow, the way you hold someone so they don't strain a shoulder. Ten years. His body is still apologizing for itself. He let his hand drop and let her search.

She went through his pockets with quick, rough hands. She found nothing but a stiff brown envelope. Hospital letterhead. Royal London. She looked at it for half a second, then shoved it back with the rest, and him with it. Everyone's sick, she told herself, until it's a court date.

"Get the Vance name out of your mouth," she sneered. "And don't you ever use it to scrape by on East End streets."

Julian steadied his breathing. His head hammered, but his eyes stayed level.

"Fine," he said. "From this second on, I will never use your family name again. Remember your words today, Siska."

"Good. At least you're self-aware." She turned on her heel. At the door she looked back at Garrick. "Continue your business, Mr. Garrick. The law protects legitimate creditors—don't let this trash cause trouble in my jurisdiction."

The door clicked shut behind her.

Garrick waited until her footsteps faded, then burst out laughing.

"Incredible! The great Vance family threw you out like rubbish!" He slapped a hand onto the nearest table, and a soup bowl jumped and shattered on the floor. "And you tried to bluff me?"

George stepped in, pleading. "Mr. Garrick, please, give us time—"

"Get lost, you old corpse!" Garrick's hand caught George's chest and sent him sprawling to the boards with a cry.

"Grandpa!" Aira dropped to her knees beside him.

Garrick grabbed her shoulder and hauled her upright. "Tonight, you come with me and pay this orphanage's debt."

Something in Julian's eyes went out, and something else came on in its place.

He moved without a sound. One moment he was by the table; the next, his hand had closed on the wrist Garrick was using on Aira, and he twisted it the wrong way.

CRACK!

Garrick howled. Before he could clutch the broken wrist, Julian's kick landed in his chest and sent him flying into the wall. The old wood cracked. He slid down it and stayed there.

His head rang like a struck bell. He kept his face level.

The six thugs froze. Julian hadn't even caught his breath. He flicked his fingers at them, a small, patient gesture.

"Take your boss and get out," he said. "Or leave here without your legs."

"Kill him!" one of the men panicked, and pulled a pocketknife.