Our cousin demanded his little brother in Harlan, learning the city from him.
Nik made it his personal fucking mission to make Marcel suffer for it. In ways that wouldn’t have us dragged in front of Damius.
Kingston wasn’t another cousin to us. Nik and I treated him like we treated our brothers, more like sons.
Regardless what we wanted tonight to be. Villain had other fucking ideas.
By the time the private lift doors shut, fury was already flooding me.
Rome scoffed, tapping his finger against the wall. “First night we get Kingston back in Villain… this is what we’re doing.”
Kingston only rolled his shoulders once. He watched the floor numbers drop like he wanted to fight each one. “Relax rocks you can buy me a beer after it.”
Rome shot him a dirty look at the nickname. “For that, you’re not getting my spare bed. You can sleep on the couch.”
“Fine I’ll stay with the twins.”
“Breaking Romes heart King. He dragged the guest bed into his room.” Bastion couldn’t help himself stirring Rome up.
“I told you. It was too much work to move the knife collection from the spare room.” Rome shoved Bastion shoulder. “Last time I am ever asking you to help me with anything.”
“Enough.” Nik said, before Bastion shoved Rome back. “After this, we celebrate King being home.”
I exhaled through my nose. “Let’s get this the fuck over with.”
“What’s the plan.” Luca leaned back, arms crossing.
“The same as always.” My hand went through my hair once. “They hit, we hit harder.”
The elevator hummed as we descended into the underground car park. The air changed before the doors opened, that electric charge a room gets right before a riot, when disrespect is about to get someone killed.
The doors slid open.
The entire lower level was packed with black syndicate vehicles. Parked in a way that wasn’t defensive. A display.
A semicircle of cars. A wider semicircle of bodies. Thirteen families, shoulder to shoulder, guns visible. Not one of them stepped back when they saw us.
My stomach dropped.
Nik’s gaze cut sideways, just once. We both read the same thing in the layout, the arrogance.
This wasn’t a meeting.
It was going to end bloody.
We stepped out as a unit—me, Nik, Bastion, Luca, Rome, Kingston—moving through the narrow gap that should’ve been cleared already and wasn’t.
Nikolai’s jaw flexed when he clocked the formation. He slid his jacket off in one smooth motion and left it on a rail as we passed. That alone made the air tighten. Nik didn’t take off his jacket unless he expected to use his hands.
Luca’s attention swept the ring, eyes moving quick over every angle. “Look at their spacing. Guns on the outer ring, muscle on the inside. They’re caging themselves.”
“Because they think numbers make them safe. They want a show.” Bastioned added.
“They’ll get one.” I took in the posture of the captains. Flexing my hands.
We reached the centre of their semicircle. The syndicate men shifted, closing, hungry for something they didn’t understand.
Nik edged closer to my shoulder, voice dropping for me alone. “Numbers first. They want to argue math before loyalty.”
