“I need another fight.”
“No.You need to stop trying to beat a mate bond into silence.”
I round on him, and the demons stop playing cards.Cruz doesn’t even blink.
I breathe through my nose.Once.Twice.The air tastes like blood and concrete and old magic.Not enough.Not right.Not her.
That’s the problem.The only thing that calmed the beast tonight was Briana’s hand near mine and her voice telling me she was not afraid.Which means I am well and truly fucked.
A slow clap comes from the stairs.Every creature in the room goes still.
Aldron descends like a shadow that learned elegance, dark hair tied back, sleeves rolled to his forearms, pale face unreadable.He wears black, as always, but there’s blood on one cuff.
Not his.Probably not anyone we will miss.
His gaze moves from the jackal being dragged away, to the gouges across my chest, to the cracked tape around my hand.
“I leave my establishment unattended for a few hours, and you start redecorating with testosterone,” Aldron says.
Cruz points at me.“Mostly him.”
“Coward,” I mutter.
“Alive coward,” Cruz replies.
Aldron’s eyes settle on me.Ancient.Amused.Tired in a way only old vampires can be tired.“Walk with me, Knox.”
That’s not a request.
I grab my shirt, but don’t put it on.The fabric will stick to the bleeding claw marks, and I am already irritated enough.Cruz follows until Aldron glances at him.
“Not you.”
Cruz’s brows rise.“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s private.”
My twin looks at me, and I nod once.He doesn’t like it, but he stays behind.
Aldron leads me through a side corridor lined with old brick and iron sconces that burn with blue witch flame.The hallway slopes beneath the building, deeper than most people know The Gin Room goes.Older rooms sit down here.Storage.Cells.Safe spaces.Dangerous spaces.
Aldron has owned this building for centuries.No one knows all its secrets but him.Maybe not even him.
He stops outside a heavy oak door carved with symbols I have never learned to read.With one hand, he pushes it open and steps inside.
His private office below the bar is nothing like the public one upstairs.This room has no velvet, no polished charm, no carefully curated atmosphere.Stone walls, a massive desk, and shelves crowded with old books and older weapons.A glass cabinet full of blood vials labeled in neat script.A map of New York covers one wall, marked with pins in colors that probably mean someone’s death or debt.
On the desk sits a black wax seal inside a small glass dish.
A circle with a slash through it, and three drops beneath.
The beast inside me goes still, and I stop in the doorway.
Aldron looks at the seal, then at me.
“So,” he says.“She remembered.”
My hands curl into fists, and the bandage tears.“You knew?”
