“It’s already done.”
“Since when do you side with witch whores?”
Anger flared in Darius’s eyes, but other than a slight tick in his jaw, he didn’t move a muscle. He was silent so long I was beginning to think he might just implode.
But then he raised his chin, straightening the suit coat over his shoulders. “I’m not your brother, vampire. You’d be wise to remember that.”
“Oh, I will.” Hollis pushed past us, knocking against my shoulder on his way out. Pinning me for just a moment with that icy, terrifying stare, he leaned in close and whispered, “I remembereverything.”
Seven
Darius
The challenge was over almost as quickly as it’d begun, but I’d be a fool to think I’d seen the last of Clayton Hollis. Tonight’s victory would certainly cost me.
The question was… how much? And when would he come to collect?
I led Gray back to the bar where she reclaimed her chair and polished off the drink she’d left.
After everything I’d just witnessed, I couldn’t blame her.
Hollis and Weston. Bloody hell, Ronan is going to stake me for this.
“I’m beginning to understand how the events of last night transpired, little brawler.” I ducked behind the bar and rummaged for a clean dishtowel, filling it with crushed ice. “Tell me something. Do you always pick fights in which you’re seriously outclassed?”
Gray laughed, a sound so warm and soft it melted the last of my lingering tension. “Only on the weekends, apparently.”
“Here. This might help.” I handed her the ice pack, wishing I could do more to ease the angry red welts on her skin—not to mention the scrapes and bruises she’d collected last night.
How could someone so small cause so much trouble?
“Thanks.” She blew out a breath, pressing the towel to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry you had to get involved.”
“It’s alright, love.” I grabbed the bottle of Jameson and topped off her drink.
Gray wrapped both hands around her glass, staring so deeply into the amber liquid I thought she might fall in.
After a beat, she finally asked, “Should we be worried about them retaliating?”
Would they retaliate? Probably. Should she be worried about that? Absolutely not.
“I’ll put in a call to Emilio Alvarez tonight,” I said. “See if he can have someone keep tabs on them for a bit.”
“Alvarez… the wolf cop?”
“Detective, actually. You’re not acquainted?”
“Just by name. Ronan says he’s good people, though.”
I nodded. Decades ago, when I was still practicing law and he was up-and-coming on the police force, we used to consult together on criminal cases.
More recently—seven years ago, to be precise—Detective Alvarez and I had come together with Ronan and another demon on a more important matter:
The arrival of an extremely powerful young witch in Blackmoon Bay.
Thinking about that night still made me ill. Gray had been so lost, so broken. Not even old enough to drink legally, she’d turned up under a tarp in one of Waldrich’s old boats, malnourished and badly wounded. Even with our round-the-clock care, she was in and out of consciousness for weeks.
Of the four of us who’d brought her back from the precipice of death, Ronan was the only one she seemed to remember now. It made perfect sense—he’d stayed with her long after her wounds had healed, helping her make a home here in the Bay. The rest of us had agreed to keep watch from a distance until she was ready to bring us back into her life—this time, on her own terms.
