"How?" Max didn't have the luxury of asking why Gabriel had changed his mind. He was too damn busy trying to understand what had just happened. The tension between them was palpable—each word weighed down with suspicion.
Gabriel didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into a cabinet on Max's right and pulled out a bottle of cognac, giving it a practiced twist to uncork it. "We lie," he stated flatly, his voice as cold as the glass he poured.
Max raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "And you think that'll work?"
Gabriel poured a generous amount into two glasses, his movements sharp and deliberate. He didn't look up as he handed one to Max, but the glint in his eyes was enough. "We have been caught up in this web for far too long to back out now. You want out; I want space. We give George a version of the truth that serves us both. For now, anyway."
Max took the glass, still unsure of what exactly he'd gotten himself into. He watched Gabriel like a hawk as he downed a mouthful of the drink. The burn was sharp, but it didn't stop the knot in his stomach from tightening.
"Lies don't exactly make good foundations," Max muttered.
Gabriel smirked, the edge of his wit unmistakable. "Since when did you care about foundations? You're stuck with the Claymore family's version of truth, aren't you?" He flicked his gaze to Max, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "We've both got enough skeletons in our closets to make a hell of a story."
Max leaned back on the couch, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how we're going to pull this off, Gabriel. George has eyes everywhere. He'll know the second we try to pull something."
"Not if we're careful," Gabriel replied with a bite in his tone. "This apartment isn't bugged. Not a damn soul can listen in here. I have my people, just like you do. For a while, we can make George think we're just—what's the term?—playing along. Keeping the peace."
Max exhaled sharply, the reality of the situation beginning to gnaw at him. "I can't afford to make any more mistakes." He didn't want to admit it, but George had him by the throat. It was a quiet threat, always lingering, just out of sight.
Gabriel took a long sip of his cognac, his eyes lingering on Max. "I don't think either of us can afford more mistakes." He paused, his gaze turning sharper. "The mark I have is my doing."
Max stilled, a frown tugging at his features. "What do you mean, your doing?"
Gabriel let out a quiet chuckle, a sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "This is confirmation that i know how to lie. You thought, like everyone else, that my mark was made by a mysterious alpha, didn't you? No alpha did it. I did it myself."
"I can replicate your partner mark. There is no need for us to really bond."
Max's jaw tightened at the mention of his, the man whose safety had always been his priority. He had never intended to drag him into this mess, but now it was all spiraling out of control. "My partner's in danger because of George," Max muttered, his voice low. "And he doesn't even deserve it. George is just using him as a pawn. I won't stand for it."
Gabriel met Max's gaze with an unreadable look. He could see the fire in Max's eyes—the kind of passion that came from someone who wasn't willing to back down, no matter the cost. But Gabriel wasn't exactly ready to buy the whole "good guy" act. Not yet.
"Why doesn't he deserve it?" Gabriel asked, his tone sharp. "Isn't he just another tool to your family's games?"
Max bristled at the insinuation but didn't snap. Not yet. Instead, he gripped his glass tighter, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "He's not. He's not a part of this game. George thinks he can use him against me, and I'll be damned if I let that happen. He's a good man, Gabriel, and he doesn't deserve any of this."
Gabriel studied him, his expression unreadable. "I'll take your word for it. But I'm not doing this because I like you, Max. I'm doing it because this whole situation reeks of George's influence. He's pulling all the strings, and if you're going to survive, you need more than just the right mark. You need leverage. And that's where I come in."
Max let out a long, slow breath. "Leverage, huh? What exactly do you think you have to offer?"
Gabriel's lips curled into a half-smile. "More than you think. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. First things first: I'll redo the mark. I will return to the capital for the coming-of-age ball; my family wants me in the principal mansion. George can't reach in there."
Max did not want to admit it, but Gabriel's plan was beginning to make sense. They couldn't beat George with brute force. Not yet. However, they were capable of outperforming him, and Gabriel's mind appeared to excel in this regard.
"Alright," Max muttered, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "We do this your way. But I'm not making promises."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Gabriel shot back, his voice dripping with dry amusement. "We're both here for our own reasons, Max. Don't fool yourself into thinking I'm doing this for your benefit."
Max met his gaze evenly. "You just want to see George burn. Don't deny it."
Gabriel's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I know a thing or two about dealing with assholes like him."
The tension in the room was thick, but it was the kind of tension that came with an unspoken agreement. They both had their own stakes in this, their own motives, but for now, they were on the same side.
Max drank another glass of cognac before getting off the couch to leave.
"Not so fast. Stay the night." Gabriel's words paralyzed him.