The room was thick with silence after the footage ended, but Kingsley didn't wait around. He pushed the chair back, his leather shoes scratched against the hardwood floor as he walked out.
Raymond followed, catching up as they passed through the long hallway of Kingsley's mansion. The walls were lined with black-and-white photographs and art works.
"Boss Elm," Raymond said quietly, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard, "we both know who used to run with that symbol."
Kingsley didn't answer. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his jaw were tight, eyes locked on the far end of the corridor like if he walked fast enough, the truth would stay behind him.
Raymond exhaled and said it anyway. "Your father was the last known head of the Elite Fraternity. He built it. Ran it. Owned it."
Kingsley stopped walking instantly. His shoulders didn't move, but his voice was low and sharp. "Don't."
Raymond stepped beside him. "You know I have to bring it up."
