He moved fast. One moment he was at the wall, the next he was over the coffee table, fist connecting with the second heir’s jaw and sending him straight through it.
The glass exploded under them. The man hit his head and went limp for a second.
I pushed off the bar.
“Rome.”
He didn’t even glance at me.
He grabbed the heir by the shirt front and hauled him through the wreckage until his back hit the entertainment unit.
“Grateful? Is that what she should’ve been when you blocked the door?” his voice dropped lower.
The heir gagged, eyes rolling.
I stepped closer, I wouldn’t correct him in front of outsiders. “Vark varin out. Nar kair’d ven mor.”
They need to walk out, not be carried to a morgue.
Rome drove a fist into the guy’s ribs.
The Crow in me was nodding. The brother was watching Rome’s face.
I’d seen him handle enforcement. I’d watched him correct idiots at the clubs a dozen times. He could be vicious, sure. But it usually lived somewhere in that cold, Crow place we all went when we put the mask on.
That was when it occurred to me.
This was personal.
It looked like someone had laid hands on something he considered his.
“The girl is safe,” I stepped in until I could put a hand on his shoulder.
Rome’s head turned a fraction.
Eyes still wild. Focused, now, on mine.
“The med team checked her. She’s with security.”
He breathed hard through his nose. Slowly—slowly—he dropped the heir. The man slumped sideways.
“For the record. if you kill them, Nik gets annoyed. Paperwork.” I added.
Rome rolled his neck.
“You done?” I asked.
He turned on the first heir again.
So,no.
The guy had managed to drag himself up onto one elbow. Bad idea. It put his face in reach.
Rome planted a boot on his chest and shoved him flat.
“You don’t come back to my clubs. You don’t book rooms in Villain. You don’t look at my girls. You hear me?”
The heir spat blood. “You can’t—Crows don’t—no one bans a?—”
