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CHAPTER THREE
____________
SKYLA
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
Istared at Kramer. He’d protected me most of my life, even from afar. Known my parents. Sworn that my secret would go to his grave, and he’d just given it up to a group of warlocks who wouldn’t hesitate to use it against me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Fang’s eyes were on me, so much more intense than the way he usually looked at me—like a toy he wanted and couldn’t have. Now he looked at me like I was a toy he’d beengifted. He grinned and shoved his gun into the back of his pants. “Perfect.”
Nodding to his two guys, they let K go, allowing him to stumble. “I expect you back here with my money in two hours. If you’re not…” Fang looked at me and let the thought drift. The threat at the end of it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t kill me, but I’d be as good as dead. No chance to run with this many warlocks armed with magic, guns, and zero sense of right and wrong.
K looked at me as he slowly walked past me. “Sky—”
“Get thefuckaway from me,” I hissed the words under my breath.
“Skyla.”
“Get. Out.”
Nothing he could say to me would make this better. Even if he came back with the money, there was no guarantee the Legion would let me go. I was collateral for this money, but the betrayal ran so much deeper than that.
Kramer slowly moved through the crowd of Legion members, gripping his bloody shoulder, finally exiting the front door. The air in the room felt like it was being held—no one exhaling.
Until Fang slapped his hands on the bar and pointed at Clementine. “Since we’ve got some time to kill, let’s see you dance, sweetheart. Sky, serve us drinks, and then I want you on that pole. Where you’re meant to be.”
The way he said it gave me chills. Not the good kind.
He raised a hand and drew glowing symbols in the air, the red glow lingering behind his fingers. “All the doors and windows are warded,” he said. “If anyone leaves, we’ll know.”
Fuck. Of course.
I plastered on a fake smile and hid my phone under the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
The smile stayed on my face, and I smothered a sigh. There wasn’t anything wrong with whiskey, except for the fact that we knew these guys. Fang didn’t actually like drinking whiskey. When he sent his cronies to the bar to order for him, he got cocktails. Again, nothing wrong with the choice, but I was over the macho bullshit.
Especially since this particular version of macho bullshit might end my life. The only reason I still had my mind this very second was because they didn’t have what they needed to make me a slave on hand. I knew it in my bones.
He took his drink and went over to the stage, slinking into a chair and watching Clementine, who was dancing for real now. Jessie still stood by the door to the back, watching me. Watching everyone.
When we locked eyes, she came over and started helping serve the drinks. We crossed paths, grabbing glasses and alcohol.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Nope.”
Jessie blew out a breath. “Yeah. Stupid question.”
I turned and served three beers to the waiting warlocks, ignoring the way they looked at us like we were steaks on a platter. It never felt like this before. Because before, they had no claim to us. Me.
Now they salivated, counting down the minutes until K came back, or didn’t. Over by the stage, Fang went back and forth between watching Clementine and looking at his phone. This wasn’t the whole motorcycle club. Nothing was stopping Fang from sending people to get Kramer and makesurehe didn’t come back.
I wasn’t up to date on the prices for faery cocaine, but I knew that having a half-fae hybrid under your thumb was more valuable.
