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There’s something in the air.
A heaviness that blankets my senses, muffling everything around me. My stomach turns with the taste of it on my tongue. The hair on my arms stands on end, sending a bolt of anxiety through me.
Something is coming and I don’t think I can stop it.
It’s more than the looming Auction. More than the thinly veiled threats from Grant. More than the side glances from Jenkins. And I’m not the only one who feels it. Avery kept shooting me looks as I got dressed, eyes bouncing between me and the bedroom door. Jag shuffled around, muttering under his breath as Dante and I left.
Now I’m perched on Dante’s lap as he pretends to watch the women on stage dancing. He’s so tense, I swear he’ll fracture with one wrong move. Trying to pinpoint the source of my unease isn’t easy. I scan the crowd over his shoulder, searching—always searching.
I know this feeling well. It’s the same one I had when I stepped out of Dante’s bedroom and Grant snatched me. The lead weight that dropped in my stomach when Jenkins almost raped me five years ago. The panic that flooded me when my father sold me to the Guild. It was even present when I was driving to Synd ten years ago. Sure, I was excited, riding the thrill of doing something I knew I shouldn’t. Underneath it all was that soft warning bell ringing in the back of my mind that something wasn’t right.
My father has been gone for almost two months—the longest he’s ever been away recently. That’s who I’m looking for now. He has to be the reason I’m so off. Jenkins refuses to tell Dante whether or not he’s reached out. I doubt he has, but with the coldness Jenkins addresses Dante, we wouldn’t know either way. Maybe Jenkins sent my father to some of the other cities to collect the dues. We’ve never had a problem with people paying before, so I have no idea what action the Guild would take against them.
“Stop fidgeting,” Dante mumbles in my ear.
He taps my arm and I slide from his lap and onto my knees. Byron’s booming laugh precedes him and I shiver, pressing closer to Dante. His hand lands on my neck, massaging the tense muscles.
“Cruz, heard you got another bit. Double dipping.”
I peek at the man as he plops into the chair next to Dante, grinning manically. There’s an edge to his smile now. His eyes dart to me and I avert my gaze, hoping he didn’t notice me watching him. In that split second, though, I saw a razor sharp clarity that was missing before. I concentrate on my breathing. The last thing I need is him thinking he has an effect on me. When I peek back, he’s making a show of glancing around.
“Where is the new one?” he asks, shouting over the music.
“She’s not ready for outings yet,” Dante says, fingers flexing against my neck.
It’s the line he’s used whenever someone asks. When Jenkins questioned him, he talked about it being a process to subdue some of them. I don’t know how Dante knows about all this stuff, but he plays the part well. Unless it’s not an act at all. He’s never acted like this when we’re alone, though, so probably not.
“I don’t understand you, man,” he chortles. “I see you cowed your other one.”
“Watch yourself, Michaels.”
He holds up his hands, still grinning. I don’t understand how someone can hold the same expression for so long. Don’t his cheeks start to hurt? It has to be an act but keeping it up for hours seems exhausting.
“Heard some talk about a certain special event. Any chance I can get in on that?”
I sigh, grateful that he’s finally getting to the point. Whatever is waiting on the horizon for us has nothing to do with this man. He’s just a blip on the radar, an annoying gnat I wish I could swat away.
“Unfortunately, Michaels, I doubt you’d be able to afford this one.”
The other man bristles, nostrils flaring. “I think you forget who paved the way for your entrance, Cruz.”
Dante sighs, straightening his cuffs. “The starting bids are twenty-five thousand. But none of them go for that. This is an elite event, with exclusive invitations sent out. If you haven’t received one, I doubt there’s much I can do about it.”
He’s lying, since the invitations are still sitting on my computer waiting for a date. We were able to secure another delay by setting fire to the space Jenkins has people fixing up for the Auction. I wish I could have been there to watch the fallout when he realized he’d have to push it back yet again. Dante assured me no one died from the electrical fire one of the workers engineered. I almost wish it would have spread, taking out the entire building.
“I’m starting to regret introducing you,” Byron grumbles, crossing his arms like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.
“If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. Be careful, Michaels. You don’t want to be on my bad side.”
I swallow a snort. Dante sounds like he’s in a mobster movie. Apparently, Byron doesn’t have the same reservations as he makes a show of huffing and puffing. He throws out his chest as if he can intimidate Dante into his way of thinking. He sputters when Dante doesn’t react, essentially ignoring the blustering man.
Dante lifts his hand and I lean to the side, peering around his body. Security stops several paces away, glancing between the two men. Byron spots them, sobering as his eyes spear into Dante.
“Can’t even fight your own battles, Cruz?” he hisses.
“I could, but what would be the point when I can pay someone else to take out the trash for me?” Dante’s hand slides through my hair, tugging when he reaches the ends.
Byron explodes, screaming obscenities as he throws himself at Dante. I scramble back, cowering under the table as Dante slams his fist into Byron’s Adam’s apple. The burly man drops to the floor, clutching his throat as he wheezes. With one move, Dante has incapacitated him.
