Page 108 of Savage Enemy

He shook his stupid fucking head.

“A change in the order of succession doesn’t excuse you from the influence. You’re the living Vignali representative. You haven’t taken your council seat as a member yet, but you’re still expected to abide by our laws.

“And the fact that I haven’t found it necessary to drag you in here before now does not, under any circumstances, mean you won’t be held responsible for your actions.”

Interesting. Lordi said he’d never dragged me into this room before when he had. What game was he playing?

It didn’t matter now. The clock was ticking, and I needed to leave. Every minute wasted in New York meant another one for my girl to suffer through more abuse.

“If you would like,” Lordi continued, “we can argue this matter all night, but the end result will remain the same?—”

“What’s the fucking punishment?” I blurted.

He sank back into his chair as if disappointed.

“A pound of flesh. It’s your first offense, so a finger will do.”

A finger? Fuck it. I had nine more. Val had only one life.

“If it means I don’t have to listen to you prattle on about the importance of tradition for six more fucking hours, then take the goddamn finger and let me leave.”

The room erupted into murmurs.

What did they expect? I would never get on my knees before these men, the same men I would kill sooner or later. Nor would I ever promise to behave like a disobedient child.

The shock on Don Lordi’s face as his mouth opened and closed several times made me believe he hadn’t expected me to agree quite so readily.

Angelo Medico blinked like he couldn’t believe it either.

“You’ll willingly lose a finger here today in penance for breaking the New York–Chicago treaty?” Lordi asked. “Is that what you’re telling me? You do realize that includes letting you bleed for thirty minutes before we cauterize the wound?”

“I’m aware,” I lied.

I’d rather cauterize it myself while sitting in the back of my car on the way to the airport. And thirty minutes of bleeding was still faster than trying to argue my way out of his charges.

Lordi raised his bushy eyebrows.

“You’ll get nothing for the pain, before or after. Only a shot of whiskey is permitted.”

Shaking my head, I shrugged out of my jacket and removed the cuff link from my right shirtsleeve.

“Keep your damn whiskey, Lordi, and get on with it.”

“Well, I guess if there are no objections from the council.”

He gazed down along the table and around the room.

How very fucking diplomatic of him.

The other Commission members looked flabbergasted.

When I was young, my mother had taught me this trick. Whenever someone geared up for a fight, the easiest way to winwould be for me to agree with them, she’d told me. They would never see it coming, and it would throw them off every time.

In this case, it meant I lost a finger.

Better a finger than my wife.

While keeping my eyes on Lordi, I rolled up my sleeve.

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