Page 30 of Pride: Kneel Before None

She scoffed and turned her head to look at me with enough incredulity to redefine the very word. “Comfortable?”

Turning to face me fully, she jabbed my chest with her finger, each poke against my sternum filled with the wrath of an angry kitten.

“You pawn me off on a glorified babysitter, and you call it keeping me comfortable? If you think for one moment that⁠—”

Val cleared his throat. “Apologies for interrupting, but I failed to mention that I came bearing this.” He pulled out a brass cylinder from inside his sports coat.

The contraption resembled a cryptex but had ten blank dials on it. At first, Eve seemed genuinely perplexed at what was presented to her.

Holding the device between his hands, a knowing grin settled over his lips that protruded a bit too far for a natural humanoid.

“It is a game my people enjoy playing that involves strategy and guesswork.” He paused deliberately before dropping the clincher. “It is often used to develop telekinesis amongst my clan’s young. In your case, it could be used as a means for demonstrating short-range precognition.”

That got her attention. Her tirade fell silent at a game where she would excel and would keep her preoccupied. Another one of my exceptionally bright ideas.

I leaned forward, murmuring into her ear. “Don’t miss me too much, Little Spade.” My lips brushed over her cheek as I withdrew.

With that, I left them to their friendly competition using their psychic talents.

After leaving the suite, I bypassed the central elevator, choosing the larger service lift around the corner at the far end of the hall. Flipping my ace of spades out from the inside of my sleeve, I pressed it against an access pad. The red light above it switched to green with a small electronic beep in the otherwise silent hallway. With one firm punch of my knuckle to the “LL” button, the car descended into the bowels of Sevenfold, where one unwise vamp awaited judgment.

The lower level, located three stories beneath the casino, was designed for the worst offenders in Superbia’s gambling industry. Not just for those who accrued unimaginable—and unrepayable—debts, but also for the denizens of the city who dared to insult my business and, by extension, me.

In Percy’s case, not only had he become a threat to my Little Spade, but he insulted her honor publicly with his accusations of cheating. Truth or not, I wouldn’t condone it.

Not from him. Not from anyone.

Navigating the narrow corridors, the dim lights guided me to the holding cells marked with an upside-down black crown. These maximum-security prisons were reserved for only the most reprehensible, those who required…disposal.

Even while standing outside the door, I could hear the undead coward whining and pacing with frantic movements. I shrugged my suit jacket off my shoulders, hanging it up on a coat hook on the wall. A few tugs on my tie, it loosened, the knot unraveling. I coiled the swath of silk around my hand and tucked it with care into one of the jacket’s pockets.

There was no rush to my movements, only calm with the knowledge of the reckoning that loomed ahead. Only once I stood there shirtless, my suspenders hanging down at my sides, did I mentally brace for what came next.

My hands clenched into tight fists, muscles flexing beneath my tanned skin, veins bulging with increased blood flow, and my runes warming in anticipation of the violence it craved.

The night guard met my eyes, awaiting my order.

“Open it,” I commanded in a voice too gravelly to be considered my own.

Hinges whined in protest with a shrill squeak that echoed in the air even after movement stopped. The door opened to show the undead fucker turning his head sharper than any natural-born predator. His pacing ceased, and he stood so still that even the permanently dead would be put to shame.

Each curve of the runes that covered my body came to life. It was like slipping shades over my eyes that gave everything in my vision a faint red glow.

Stepping into the cramped cell, it reeked of rodent piss and decay. Soon, it would also smell like the burnt offering of Percy’s remains.

With a dramatic clang, the door shut behind me, trapping us both in this box made of Superbia’s strongest metal and stones, reinforced by ancient sigils.

The moment I crossed the threshold into the killbox, I was no longer Ace Reynard, owner of Sevenfold Casino. I was the infernal brotherhood’s most gruesome Knight of Hell.

There were no words spoken, no threats exchanged. Just two deadly predators locking eyes, one of whom was dubbed by the realm to execute threats within this shithole in the name of a fucking, lazy-ass Prince of Hell.

Hellfire burned in my blood, my tribalistic markings glowing brighter on my skin in anticipation of the infliction of death in its purest form. But not without agonizing pain. Torture. Penance for all his wrongs.

Silence roared between us.

Until it broke.

Percy charged. All speed, stupidity, and snarls.