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She had a white bar towel in the hand she used to point at Ethan, then Gabriel. “No fighting here. No fighting. Is rule.”
Gabriel’s gaze snapped to her. Obviously angry, he muttered something low in Ukrainian. I hadn’t heard him speak it before, and it sounded vaguely menacing in his growly and gravelly voice.
If Berna was intimidated, she hid it well. She pitched her head to the left and right, made a spitting sound that I was pretty sure was an insult. And then she leveled that gaze at Ethan.
“You make trouble in our house. Get out now before you make worse.” And then she looked at me, flipped her fingers back and forth to shoo us out of the back room. “Both of you. Out. Now.”
Ethan took a step toward the door, but glanced back at Gabriel. “We aren’t done with this conversation.”
Gabriel spread his hands, smiled toothily. “Anytime, Sullivan.”
We walked out of the bar, leaving Gabriel Keene in Little Red, and our alliance on a knife’s edge.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DECIDER
Ethan fumed in silence as we walked back to the car and drove back to Hyde Park.
His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and he pushed the car to the absolute limit. He’d taken surface streets, tested the length of every yellow light between Ukrainian Village and Hyde Park, and had nearly raced a small car with a spoiler off the line at a stoplight. The car’s driver looked at the Audi the way a man might look at a beautiful woman—with lust and wanting.
Ethan was still fuming when we pulled into the House’s parking garage. He slid the car into its slot, slammed out of the car.
“Would you like to talk before you take that enormous magical chip on your shoulder into the House?”
He turned on me. “Would I like to talk about it? Talk about what, precisely, Sentinel? The fact that our ‘ally’ knew about Reed, knew about his connection to supernaturals, and ignored it?”
“He wasn’t an ally at the time—not when Caleb joined Reed.”
“He’s a goddamn ally now,” Ethan said, “and he’s been one for months.”
“You didn’t tell him what we found at Caleb Franklin’s house. You didn’t tell him about the key.”
“And why should I? Caleb Franklin defected, and there’s no evidence the key belonged to him or, even if it did, that it has any bearing here.”
“So it’s all right if you withhold information strategically, but not if he does it?”
I knew I was getting perilously close to insubordination. But that was the point.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Sentinel.” Ethan stalked into the House, let the basement door slam behind us. The House seemed to shudder from the impact of anger, magic, and brute force.
He strode down the hall toward the Ops Room, temper flaring. If he wasn’t careful, he’d spill that fury out on people who didn’t deserve it. Not when it was really about the Pack.
And there were certainly better ways to work out his aggression.
“Actually, I think that’s exactly what you’re in the mood for.” I grabbed his arm and, when he turned back to glower, met his stare head-on.
“Let go of me.”
I didn’t. “You want to go a round? We’re yards away from the training room. If you want to hit something, you can try to hit me.”
