Page 31 of The Mafia Bloodline
Roman finally straightened, his gaze sweeping over us all. “No one acts alone. We do this together, as a unit. Volken, I want you watching the south side. If Caesar reaches for the docks again, we trap him.”
I nodded once, but my mind was already elsewhere, on Runa. On what tonight’s attack meant.
If Caesar was feeding the Irish and demons’ information, then the ambush at the warehouse hadn’t been random. It had been a message.
A warning.
We know who you are. We know what you protect.
My jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Roman’s voice pulled me back. “You’ll keep Runa at the mansion, if she argues, you tie her down. No arguments.”
My head snapped up. “She’s my mate, not my hostage.”
“I know,” he said, steady. “But she’s your weakness now. And if Caesar knows that…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. The silence that followed said it all. Viking muttered a curse. “The bastard’s going to regret crawling out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in.”
Lucien’s voice dropped lower, colder. “If he touches one of ours, I’ll gut him myself.”
Draugr grunted his agreement. “I’ll hold him down for you.”
Roman’s gaze met mine again. “Keep her safe, Volken. Whatever it takes. We can’t afford another loss and your woman still doesn’t know the danger.”
I nodded, though the promise already burned in my blood. “He’ll never touch her. I will skin him myself if he tries.”
Roman inclined his head once, the meeting dismissed.
As I turned to leave, Viking called after me. “And Volken?”
I glanced back.
He grinned, sharp and reckless. “Try not to start another war tonight. You look like you’ve barely survived three days in bed.”
Lucien coughed to hide a laugh. Even Draugr’s mouth twitched. I flipped him off, though the smirk crept across my face anyway. “Go to hell.”
Viking’s grin widened. “Already did. You just got back.”
Their laughter followed me out, a brief crack of light in the darkness closing in. But by the time I reached my car, the humour was gone because I could still feel it, the faint echo of the bond thrumming in my chest, Runa’s heartbeat steady and alive miles away.
And beneath it, something colder, whispering through the bloodline like rot under the skin.
Caesar was moving. And when I found him he would learn exactly what kind of monster the Dragic name could still make.
I left the safehouse and stepped into the cold night air, the metallic tang of the docks still clinging to the wind. It should have cleared my head. It didn’t because every time I closed myeyes, I saw her.
Runa.
Standing in that damn warehouse, framed in the half-light and blood mist, too brave for her own good. The Irish bastard’s leering grin when he’d looked at her. The way she’d flinched when the first gunshot cracked through the air.
And the thought that if I’d been one second slower, if she’d been one step closer, she’d have been on that floor, bleeding.
The memory tore through me like barbed wire. I gripped the railing hard enough that the steel groaned under my hands. My fangs ached, the beast in me pacing just beneath the surface, hungry for another throat to rip open.
The blood we spilled tonight wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Those Irish were pawns. Disposable.
And the real monster, the one pulling their strings, was still out there.
