Page 51 of Mage Massacres

“Still need glasses, I see.”

He scoffed, his accent easy to mistake unless he mentioned that he was from South Africa. “Still a dick, I see.”

I flagged the bartender down, snorting at Zephyr’s assessment. “Some shit will never change.”

“Where’ve you been hiding?” he questioned. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

I turned to the man in front of us. “That table over there? I want to send them some drinks. Whatever they want, put it on my tab.”

“Yes, sir,” the bartender replied curtly, moving away to mix the fruity shit that Hyde and Miller were drinking.

The male that Sloane had pointed out side-eyed me, his fingers sluggish as he slid them over the screen of his phone.

Sloane’s laughter reached me from across the room, her husky tone undoubtedly my favorite sound in all the realms. The impending violence had eased her turbulent emotions, and maybe Novak had sweet-talked her too. I wouldn’t put it past him.

As I opened my mouth to respond to Zephyr, the atmosphere around us changed. The air became charged with a new level of brutal electricity, crackling as several men marched out of the swinging kitchen door like they owned the place. Their movements were stiff as the leader searched the room for someone.

When his eyes landed on Sloane’s table, I almost felt bad for him. But Zephyr tensed beside me, and his friend stood up. Their eyes followed the men all the way to the girls, so I elbowed the revenant.

“Which of the girls are you worried about?”

“Miller Lynch is our mate,” he whispered, and the blonde guy with him quietly cursed under his breath. “What?”

“Nothing,” he snarled. “Just pay attention. She was worried.”

I furrowed my brow at them before muttering, “Come on. I can’t believe she didn’t think we could handle this.”

“What are you talking about?” Zephyr asked.

“We’re here watching their backs. I have a table over there. You know Arwen Osman, right?”

“Yeah,” Zephyr admitted, nudging his friend to follow us.

The blonde guy looked like he didn’t want to move, but he obliged after a moment of hesitation. Once we made it back to the table, Zephyr and I introduced our friends. Then we stalked the girls, remaining the weird sort of silent a group of guys would get stared at for.

I didn’t give a fuck how creepy we looked to everyone else. I needed to know if it was the girls who were getting their hands dirty or us.

If the savage rage flowing through our bond said anything, it was a sure sign that Sloane was about to kill someone.

“York?” Her mental voice was harsh as she kept her eyes on the male in front of her. “Will you text Franklin the address here and tell him that I want the building transferred into my name? The owner has recently died.”

He snorted audibly, and the guys at the table stared at him in confusion. “I take it Franklin will do what he does to get you what you want?”

“He’ll figure something out. He always does.”

“Sure thing, Sweetheart.”

I couldn't help my curiosity. “Who was the owner?”

I could see the edge of Sloane’s lip curling from across the room as she answered me with acid dripping in her tone. “The man standing in front of us.”

The man pulled a chair out, crossing his leg as if he wasn’t worried about his table guests. I could hear the venom in Millie's low-cast voice and his husky tone as he replied to her.

Sloane gagged as she picked up her drink. Hyde’s snort could be heard through the chatter of the bar patrons, and Miller ducked her head slightly to cover her laughter. York and I chuckled at their reactions.

As the man accused the girls of being drunk, Miller’s eyes floated around the bar. She was searching for something. An exit, maybe? Or someone? I wasn’t sure.

“She’s looking for me,” Farris whispered to Zephyr. “We shouldn’t have moved.”