“I spared her life.”
He gives me an odd look. “She’s alive because of you. In my line of work, there isn’t much difference.”
“Don’t say that like it’s a good thing. She’s an enemy of the Guild.”
“Enemy or not, that was no way to die.”
I let the words hang in the air for a moment. “You saved her. I won’t take credit for being in the right place at the right time.”
Henry looks like he might protest, but I cut him off. “Again, I must emphasize your discretion, especially with other members of the Guild. If people find out that I’ve kidnapped her….”
“Rescued her.”
I shoot him a glare. “If they discover she’s missing, you will want to be well out of the destruction zone. I suggest a holiday.”
Henry smiles a little sadly and goes to leave. “As you wish, sir.”
Finally alone in the bunker with nothing but my thoughts to torment me, I glance once more at the monitor that displays Isabella’s room.
She’s lying back down now, curled in on herself, sheets gripped between her palms with her eyes closed. Is she still crying? I get the sudden itch to go in and check.
But what else is there to say to each other?
Before I can do anything astronomically stupid—at least, more stupid than what I’ve already done—I grab my car keys and head out after the doctor.
I’ve always found walking through the Guild’s compound to be testing.
As a teenager, making it across the main hall or even some of the more popular corridors was a game of agility and vigilance. Mentwice my size and age found it amusing to test my reflexes or try to rattle me in some way.
Now that these men look at me with respect and wariness, the walk to my office is another kind of test, but one that is no less unforgiving.
“Do you have an update on the next South African shipment?”
“Some of the kids down by the bay were saying the cartel were scouting out territory.”
“Mitchell is still on house arrest. Have you spoken to the chief of police?”
“Teo!” Dante’s voice booms out over the gathered crowd.
I look up to find him leaning over the railing of the fighting ring, boxing gloves tucked under his arm.
“Care for a spar?”
Grateful for an excuse to leave the rabble behind, I head over to the gym and ditch my jacket and shirt in a locker.
Dante is waiting patiently when I arrive on the mat and he hands me a pair of matching gloves.
“You’ve been busy,” he comments mildly as we both prepare ourselves.
It’s been a while since I was last in the ring, but as I stretch out and begin to bounce on my toes, the familiarity of the movements begins to sink in. I feel my shoulders relax, my gaze zoned in on my target.
“This is the Guild,” I reply. “If I’m not busy, what kind of don would I be?”
We begin to circle each other, testing the waters with a few lunges that result in hasty retreats.
“Little birdy said you were at the Candelabralast night.”
I bite back a groan and channel my frustration into a double shot to Dante’s head. He blocks it easily.
