Page 6 of Vendetta

“What did you say?” I growl.

He hesitates for a millisecond and then he repeats it. The same taunt. The same hint of arrogance in his voice.

“They’re willing to cut you a deal. To work with you.”

“Work with me?” I say leaning forward. My arms rest on the table in front of me.

“On the proviso you defer to their authority.” He adds.

My men shift. I can feel it, the way their body changes. This man is challenging me. Daring me. He comes into my kingdom, my domain and he dares to speak to me like that?

I shake my head slightly getting to my feet.

Preston murmurs my name. He’s anxious. He knows we can fight them. He knows we can beat them but he’s the cautious one out of the pair of us. The angel on my shoulder if you will.

I flex my hand stepping out from where I’ve been sat.

The lackey sizes me up as if he’s a worthy opponent and as I inhale a deep breath of the air between us I feel it reverberate like an elastic band about to snap.

My fist slams into his face. My ring smashing his front teeth right out. He cries out in shock and pain but I barely hear it because I’m already striking him again.

He’s on the floor within seconds. I raise my leg, kicking him hard and feeling the way his body moulds around my boot.

My men move around me. Their blood is up. They’re as ready for this fight now as me.

My shoes slams into his jaw and I hear it crack with a pleasing crunch. I want it to be a message. I want this god forsaken piece of shit to crawl back on his hands to his pitiful masters.

And I want them to see it. For them to know that I did it. Not my men, not some errand boy, but me. That I’m not adverse to getting my hands dirty and when I get my hands on them that’s exactly what I’ll do. Dirty them with their blood.

When the man stops moving. When he’s done fighting and he’s simply laying there pathetic I step back and let my men drag his beaten body out of my bar.

“Was that necessary?” Preston says as we watch them.

“You rather I roll over like a dog?” I say.

“No. I know you better than that. But this, this starts a war.”

“No this simply ends the ceasefire. We’ve been warring for months. It’s been simmering long enough.” I growl. I’m ready to fight. Ready to show this city exactly what it means when they try to rise up against their king, when they try to bite the hand that feeds.

Preston grunts in reply and then his eyes flicker across the room.

Eleri. She’s here. Staring at me from across the bar. I knew she’d return but the look on her face is disarming.

She’s not hiding herself for once. She stood facing me off as if she believes the words I said yesterday. As if I’ve fed her very soul. She crosses the room and I watch each minuscule move of her body. Each hint at what hides under the baggy clothing she persists in wearing.

One of the men steps forward to stop her and I raise my hand to tell him to back the fuck off.

And then I sit, like a king on my throne seeing my queen approaching and I know she’s about to do my bidding.

She stops in front of me. Her eye running over my body in a way she’s never dared before. It’s incredible to see how she’s grown in confidence in less than a day.

She sits on the stool the other side of the table and pulls something from her pocket.

“What is this?” I say.

“I have conditions.”

“What conditions?”

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