Page 114 of Mile High Heist

The door opened fully, and the Viper stepped forward, his face ashen, his eyes alert. His gaze dropped to the kit in my fist.

Then he cocked the gun and laughed.

32

OLIVIA

Ialways suspected Madoc wasn’t human.

Watching him fight was one more point toward the half-cyborg, half-demon theory. He was relentless. He never stopped moving. Even when he got hit.

Especially when he got hit.

He only moved quicker. Harder.

Unlike Jax, who fought like a feral beast, teeth bared, and knuckles bloodied, Madoc attacked with precision. Every blow was considered, every hit calculated to cause maximum damage.

It proved that the Crows were more than just thieves. They were people who’d fought their entire lives just to survive, like it was second nature. Pain had become an afterthought to them.

But not to me.

I was battered, bruised, and completely useless. I was backed up against the wall. Madoc was the only thing protecting me from the grasping hands of desperate lawyers. There was little comfort in that.

Madoc showed no signs of tiring, but I knew he had to be exhausted. He wasn’t actually a demon, and his eyebrow was bleeding again. He kept wiping at his face irritably when the blood hindered his eyesight.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

It was sudden, like we were caught in the eye of the storm. Madoc stopped moving and went completely still. A new competitor had stepped into the ring.

I didn’t recognize the man. He was older, wider, hairless except for two thick, bushy brows.

I was close enough to Madoc to feel his spine stiffen. I was expecting anger.

Of course, when did Madoc ever do what I expected?

“Hello, Dick.” Madoc purred.

The man sneered at him. “I knew you were trouble the moment you pandered to that stupid bitch with the baby.”

“I made a promise,” Madoc said, adjusting his stance. The lawyers circled, but no one dared to enter the galley. “Twist and twist until Dick’s spinal cord snaps.”

The man sneered. Sweat beaded down his shiny head. “You’re unhinged, boy.”

Madoc stiffened again. This time, it was with real anger. Quiet, but heady, like I could taste it on the back of my tongue.

“Call me that again,” Madoc said, his voice softer and darker than I’d ever heard it.

I shuddered and pressed harder into the wall.

The man stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “We’re taking the girl. And you, boy, are going to be put in your place.”

To my surprise, Madoc didn’t strike him. He didn’t even move as the man punched him straight in the jaw. Instead, Madoc’s hands locked behind his lower back, bloodied knuckles tight like a dutiful soldier taking his punishment.

What the hell was happening?

The man struck him again, harder. Blood dripped slowly off Madoc’s chin.

I gaped at him, wondering why he wasn’t fighting back. And then I heard it—his laughter, slow and dark, like he was enjoying it.