He breathed through nausea. Pain he could endure. He had endured worse. But his body was not obeying him as it should, and that could prove dangerous for him. From what he could tell, two men stood guard beyond the door. Maybe more. If he could stand straight, he would try to take them, but he had no way to know how far he’d get if he did succeed in knocking them out. He’d rather preserve his strength for the main event.
The crowd roared again, louder this time.
His jaw tightened. Would they force her to watch?
There was every chance they would. A fifty percent chance. A spectacle was nothing without an audience, and cruelty always preferred witnesses. There was also an equal chance she’d already been forced to marry.
The notion sent a sharp ache through his chest.
He did not deal in such odds. Never had. Fifty percent was the language of gamblers, men who trusted fortune to make their choices for them.
And yet here he was.
Damn Rook.
The man had been meant to draw the Bulldog out. Keep Drake informed. That had been the plan. Simple. Reaper would laugh himself hoarse when he heard of this. If Drake survived Violet’s brother, he would allow Reaper that indulgence.
His hands curled into fists.
He couldn’t lose in front of her. Couldn’t die. He’d haunt them bloody all if he did. Despite what she may have felt in the end for him, she’d blame herself. Bloody regrets. He hated them. He should have told her. He should have told her that he wanted her in his bed, in his life, damn it, in his soul, if such a thing existed. He’d missed his chance. He’d been given several of them, had lost each one, and now the odds for him were as good as a coin toss.
Fool.
He slumped into the chair again.
If he fell for a fourth time, he wouldn’t get back up. That dog would make sure of it. Drake closed his eyes, just for a second, summoning an image of Violet, fiery and fierce behind his lids. Alive. Defiant. Treating him as though he were something other than a brute. Also treating him exactly as though he was a brute, but that was the pleasure of that little flame, the saucy spitfire, the bewitching carnivorous flower.
The corner of his lips lifted.
Any sense of betrayal he might have felt at her deception, at the truth she had not shared, had burned away the moment he had faced her brother again. Seeing that man had answered every question he had never voiced.
No one in their right mind would return willingly to a house that held such a vicious dog.
Drake’s gaze snapped up when the door opened, focus sharpening despite the pain. His muscles bunched, readying himself for them to haul him out. But it was not one of the guards who stepped inside.
The man who entered had aged since Drake last saw him, right before they’d crated him and sent him to unknown shores, now propped on a cane and dressed for a funeral. Most likely his.
Drake sneered.
Uncle.
“Well, well, the first bastard finally shows himself,” Drake growled.
“I’m no bastard.”
Drake cocked his head, settling back deeper into his slouch. “Records prove otherwise. Although, by all accounts, Grandfather was much more reserved than our father. He only had one bastard son he raised as his spare.”
“No proof exists of what you claim.”
Drake shrugged. His uncle’s expression didn’t so much as twitch at the taunt. Cold blackguard. “Are you sure? Is that not why you left our dear half-brother, the Duke of Crane, alone and focused all your energy on our empire?”
His uncle stared at him flatly.
Christ. The man they wanted to catch was within his grasp, and yet he couldn’t touch him. One of the worst sorts of torture, in Drake’s opinion. Should he just charge him? Snap his neck and let the cards fall where they may? He’d die alongside his uncle, then. His fists clenched. But no matter what, he wouldn’tdo that to his brothers, to Violet. Let this wretch live, let them both live, to fight another day.
“You are just as arrogant as always, I see.”
“You expected me not to be?” Drake said cockily. “Why not end me here and now? Why whisper in a noble’s ear to do your bidding? I presume the fight back in London with that dog was your doing.”
