The crowd no longer belonged to him. It had turned feral, survival eclipsing spectacle and even coin. Baldwin shook his head and stalked off.
Drake advanced on the dog, crossing the space between them in three long strides and caught the man by the collar. Surprise flared in the man’s eyes, just long enough for his mistake to dawn.
Drake drove his fist into his gut in three quick, decisive blows. This was what he’d stored the last of his strength for. The man went down the same way he’d gone down in London, choking on air. So damn weak. He seized the man’s wrist and twisted. A sharp, gratifying snap. A howl tore from the man’s throat.
Drake neither hesitated nor paused.
He took the other wrist and broke that one too.
Another howl split the air. Drake breathed in the sound like absolution. “Should I stop here,” he murmured, planting his boot against the man’s legs and driving down hard, “or break these as well?”
“You bloody bastard’s son! I will kill you!”
Drake smiled. “You had your chance; you’ll never get one again.”
A hand clamped onto his shoulder. “That’s enough,frère, we need to leave.”
Saint appeared before them. “I’ll take care of this one.”
Drake nodded. “I’m not leaving without Violet.”
“Dagger went for her,frère, you’ll see her soon enough.”
“There’s a man with her. We need to—”
“On it,” Knight said from behind him.
Drake glanced over his shoulder, but his brother had already vanished. His gaze lifted to the platform above. Empty. Damn it. He hated the thought of leaving without Violet at his side. Every part of him wanted to see her, touch her, breathe her. But he recognized that if he didn’t retreat now, he’d make a damn fool of himself a fourth time.
“How did you find us?” Drake grunted as Reaper hauled him toward the exit.
“Your man, Rook, sent word. And for once,” he added grimly, “you weren’t far wrong in your judgment of him.”
The chaos swallowed them whole, but Drake held fast to one certainty. Whatever came next, Violet had altered the course beyond retrieval.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Violet had noidea where she was, but that did not stop her from going. Her skirts were twisted about her legs, breath tearing from her chest, pulse roaring in her ears, but she pressed on all the same. She’d just kicked Percival in the nether regions and left him doubled over with a strangled sound as she’d raced through the door and down the stairs, and she did not know if he had recovered yet or not, or whether Rook had managed to hold the guards back. They were behind her. Drake was ahead.
However, a shot from a pistol had set everything in chaos.
Drake’s brothers, perhaps?
She forced herself forward, eyes sweeping desperately through the confusion. She searched for one thing only, one man among the madness. She did not know how she would reach him. She did not know if she even could. But she would not stop until she did.
A man stepped into her path, and she barreled straight into his rock-solid chest.
Violet gasped, hands flying up instinctively, and then she looked up. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A familiar face. Dagger. Relief hit her so fast her knees nearly buckled.
“Where is your brother?” she demanded, fingers fisting in his shirt.
Dagger’s gaze flicked past her. “The others,” he said shortly. “Get behind me.”
Get behind him? She glanced over her shoulder, eyes flying wide as she spotted two of the three guards that had been stationed in the gallery. She stepped aside, gaze widening even further when Dagger flicked open his coat and she caught a glimpse of daggers lining the inside.
Blazes.
“Give me one of those,” she demanded.
