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“You can’t just kiss this away, Dante. Tell me what happened.”
He leans against the wall, pulling me with him. “I burned their shit to the ground.The Vipers keep to our territory up north. I went to Synd when the Guild came through and knew they would hit us next, which is why I’m here. I’ve been avoiding Viper territory for months now.”
“You were in Synd?”
He nods, resting his head against the wall. “My sister and I went to help the Reapers.”
I wince, realizing how little I know about him. “Sister?”
“There’s a lot we can’t talk about. I want to, Aelia. I do, but the more I tell you, the greater danger you and my family are in. I won’t do that to you.”
“No, I get it. I just don’t understand how...” I suck in a deep breath. “Never mind. We have other things to deal with. My father—”
“I know. Jag texted me. But I can’t find out what he did in Synd. I tried to find him. He’s sequestered with Jenkins, and I wasn’t about to push my luck by interrupting them. I’m already walking a thin line here.” He sighs, sliding his hands up my sides.
I shiver, some of the tension leaving me as his warmth sinks into me further. Nothing will fully ease my nerves, though. Not until we’re out of here. The lack of a guarantee that we’ll ever escape eats away at my soul a little more every day.
“Should we run?” I whisper, resting my forehead on his chest.
He drops a kiss on my head, murmuring into my hair. “Not yet. We have a little more time. I’ll find out what’s happening with your father. And what went down in Synd. We still need to deal with the Auction. If we can drain their resources some more, that would help.”
I feel like we’re just delaying the inevitable. The longer we wait, the more likely one of us will be killed. I’m sick of waiting. Eventually our luck will run out. I’d rather not come out at the end with nothing at all.
“Dante, something is coming. My father coming back injured. Jenkins’s attitude. Grant’s boldness with his threats...” I shudder. “I’m scared.”
I’ve never admitted how terrified I am. Once I decided to help him, I plodded forward. Even when I was yelling at him, calling him out on his shit, or dealing with whatever terrible circumstances popped up, I’ve never given into my fears. He holds me closer, but it doesn’t help.
“Me too, angel. Me too.”
Thirty-Five
Dante
I should have listened to Aelia when she wanted to run a week ago. Since then, it’s been nothing but one damn thing after another. Drake has disappeared, floating like a wraith through the halls. No one can tell me where he is or what he’s doing. Or they’ve been told not to. Either way, I know he’s still hanging around.
Jenkins vanished two days ago, leaving Aelia to fend for herself at night. The first day she walked into the office, saw Jenkins wasn’t there, and walked straight back out. Yesterday, Grant showed up, insisting she do her fucking job. She came back looking like she’d seen a ghost, but no new bruises at least. She wouldn’t talk about it, but said he was his usual shitty self. I don’t know what to make of that.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Jag hisses from the shadows. “I don’t like leaving Avery alone.”
I slip into the alley, pulling the mask from my mouth. “You think I’m just lollygagging around for funsies?”
“You sure we should do this tonight? Seems like we’re pushing the limit.”
“If not now, when? Shit is falling apart. Sooner or later, they’re going to catch on that I’m not who I said I am and then we’ll be fucked,” I say, pulling out my phone and checking the time.
“We’re already fucked,” he mumbles, leg jiggling as he scans the mouth of the alley. “You sure we can trust this guy?”
“Probably.” My phone lights up, giving us the go-head.
“Seriously? We’re doing this on a probably?”
I shrug, walking toward the door hidden in the darkness at the back of the alley. The smell of rotten food taints the air and I pull the mask over my nose again. Knocking on the metal, I wait until the small slit opens, then flash the text on my phone. No one says anything as it slams shut before the door swings open, admitting us. As we step through, I shut off all my emotions. It’s the only way I’ll get through this.
The roar of a crowd mingles with the barking of dozens of dogs. I can almost hear Jag gritting his teeth. I didn’t want to bring him to a dogfight, but hitting the smaller operations first makes more sense. Plus, we might actually help some of the animals. My phone buzzes again, but I don’t pull it out. I already know what it says.
The dank hallway opens up to a large open space with a dirt ring in the middle. The crowd, mostly men, shakes their fists with wads of cash clutched in them at the two dogs tearing each other apart.
Jag steps past me, but I hold him back. He never told me why he’s so triggered by these types of fights, but it’s obvious how much he cares. Rage flows across his face, lining his muscles as he tries to shrug me off.
