Page 6 of His to Take

Dante's men gave Ajax nods of greeting as he entered, but they were ringing the outside of the room, clearly not wanting to get involved in the scene that was unfolding.

In the center of the room, a young man was yelling at Dante.

That was new. Dante had a heart of gold underneath his ink and muscle, but you had to be suicidal to yell at him.

The kid didn't seem to care. "I told you, I want out of this mess! You can't keep me here like some damn prisoner!" His voice crackled with frustration.

Dante's jaw was clenched, and his eyes blazed with a mix of annoyance and fatigue. "Christ, you don't get it, do you? You're in deeper than you think."

The young man took a defiant step closer to Dante, their faces mere inches apart. "I don't care! Let mego!"

Ajax observed the standoff, his brow furrowing as he looked at the kid who was going to be his charge.

Whoever this kid was, there was no denying he'd been through some rough shit. Marsh Junior was rich, so when it came to guys to fuck, it was clearly a matter of opposites attracting. The kid yelling at Dante looked like a little punk, all sharp collarbones and bad attitude. What was he, twenty? Twenty one? He looked like every year he'd ever had had been a bad one. A real alleycat of a kid.

He also looked like he hadn't slept well in a week — shit, maybe even ever. There was a jaded glint in his eyes, and he held himself stiffly, shoulders hunched in protectively.

There was a ring of nasty-looking bruises on his throat. They were fresh. Ajax didn't like the look of that.

Dante finally noticed Ajax, and a hint of relief washed over his features. He cracked a weary grin. "Congratulations, buddy. You've just inherited a grade-A problem."

Ajax grumbled in response, a growing sense of unease settling in his gut. He shifted his attention back to the defiant young man. "Alright, let's start from scratch. What's your name?"

Dylan's eyes flared with defiance, his gaze darting warily between Dante and Ajax. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Ajax sighed, his patience dwindling. "Listen, kid. It's better for everyone if we can have a civil conversation. What's your name?"

"It's Gofuckyourself."

Dante sighed. "It's Dylan. I got that much out of him."

Ajax took charge of the chaotic scene, his gaze locking onto Dylan with a firm resolve. "All right, Dylan. You're coming with me."

Dylan's wary eyes narrowed. "And why's that?"

"You were just raising hell about wanting to go, weren't you? So, let's go."

As Ajax reached out to take Dylan by the arm, he was ready for a struggle — for Dylan to push back against him, to shout, to fight.

But what he didn't anticipate was the raw vulnerability etched across Dylan's face as the young man instinctively curled inwards, like a wounded animal seeking shelter.

In that moment, Ajax's anger was momentarily drowned out by a surge of protectiveness. He saw the way Dylan's shoulders hunched, his entire posture embodying a lifetime of painful experiences. It was as if the weight of the world rested upon his slender frame.

Ajax's grip on Dylan's arm loosened. "Listen, kid, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Dylan's response was far from trusting. He crossed his arms around himself, as if trying to create a shield, and hunched in, still not meeting Ajax's gaze. His voice was tinged with bitterness. "Whatever."

Ajax escorted Dylan out of the bar, a hand wrapped around one skinny bicep, Dylan trudging along silently beside him. Out in the cool night air again, he guided him down the front stairs. "This wa—"

Without warning, Dylan slipped out of Ajax's grasp, as slippery as a snake. Without hesitation, he ran.

Shit! The kid was fast, but Ajax was faster. He quickly closed the gap, seizing Dylan by the collar of his ratty t-shirt. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Let go of me, you prick!" Dylan shouted, struggling against Ajax's firm grip. The raw vulnerability from earlier had transformed into a fiery defiance, a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.

Ajax fought the urge to shake him. Keeping his voice low and steady, he said, "I told you, I'm not here to hurt you, kid. But running won't solve anything."

Dylan's eyes flashed with a mixture of fear and rebellion. "Yeah, right. The mafia totally kidnaps people to help them out, right?"

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