Yes. A fucking dragon.
Even though innate magic is impossible.
Am I supposed to sit here and allow his sister to be raped and tortured in a manner that will break her forever?
No. I can’t do that.
Shit.
Dimitry’s cold gaze is assessing, probably sizing up every advantage owning her will bring him. I look at her standingthere, freezing and alone, but still full of fire and I feel just one thing.
Protect.
But fuck, what about the Diggers? The peace I’ve built in the sub-levels is a fragile thing. Routine is the only thing that keeps us from eating each other. And this girl? She’s every reason my men have for hating the world. A five-foot-five, beautiful, blonde arrogant insult.
I see the sneer on Layla’s face and take a final drag of my cigarette. This is a bad idea, but I don’t have a choice.
Fuck.
I stand and shout. The one word cutting through the whistling and jeers.
“CHALLENGE.”
The yard goes deathly quiet. Dimitry slowly turns his head, his eyes narrowed into slits. My own men stiffen, confused and scowling.
“Cool heads,” I murmur to Clay before I walk down the steps and into the No-man-zone.
Dimitry waits for me, his arms crossed. “You challenge forher?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble. “I don’t think so. She just neutered my second-in-command. I want justice.”
I pull a fresh cigarette from my pocket and light it, acting like I have all the time in the world. It’s pure theater, but status in Quo is built on theater. “I issued a challenge. You know the rules, Dimitry. The fish is fair game until a gang takes them in. She hasn’t been taken yet.” I blow a plume of smoke to the side.
“She’s a witch. An Elite,” Dimitry scoffs. “I thought the Diggers were ‘humans only.’ Your boys won’t be happy, Bevan.”
“The Digger code is not your concern,” I reply, but in the back of my mind I already know the ranks are going to be pissed.
Dimitry pauses, then shrugs. “Very well. Who do you nominate to fight for her?”
“I’ll fight myself.”
The murmurs turn into a roar. Bosses rarely fight their own battles, but if this is the dragon’s sister, I want control of what happens to her.
“Your funeral, Bevan.”
Dimitry clicks his fingers, and a mountain of a man steps forward from the dark blue ranks. “Heinz will represent the Guild,” Dimitry sneers.
Of course he’d choose Heinz.
The beast is dumb as pigshit, but also six-foot-eight of solid German muscle.
The fucker hasn’t lost a yard fight in the three years he’s been in Quo.
The giant cracks his knuckles, and inclines his head. “Meine Ehre, König Dmitry.”
“He says it’s his honor to fight for me,” Dimitry translates, his eyes sparking with malice. “And indeed it is. So, we proceed. Unless the Boss of the Diggers wishes to withdraw his challenge?”
That doesn’t even warrant an answer. I kneel on the concrete, tying my sneaker laces into double knots. One of my boys runs over, surreptitiously offering me a shiv, but I shake my head. If I use a blade, this becomes a blood feud. I need to win this with my hands.
The Drakeward girl looks between me and the giant, her ice-blue eyes glaring with contempt, and perhaps a touch of panic.
