Marietta crossed her arms in front of her heavy chest and cocked an eyebrow. “If what Milo told me is true, then you’re not far off. But listen, it’s not as bad as all that. Felix and Alastair will work things out. They both want what’s best for you. Probably. Felix I’m, like, seventy-five percent sure about.”
Shoes on, Dahlia straightened to her full height and leveled the other woman with a severe glare. “Marietta, let me be so, soclear: the day I let men decide what’s best for me is the day they put me in the fucking ground.”
They stood there staring at each other for a beat before, with a burst of laughter, Marietta exclaimed, “No wonder Felix went to all this trouble! Dora would’velovedyou.”
Not sure whether she was being laughed at or not, Dahlia put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Take me to his office. I’m clearing this up right now.”
The other woman wiped a tear from her eye, her shoulders still shaking with mirth. “Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
My Girl
do you have any friends?
I have a lot of cousins
they don’t count
Then no
why not? Too busy cutting hands off and generally terrorizing the populace?
The general consensus is that I’m a bit of a shit
wow that’s incredibly validating
SEVENTEEN
“You’re goingto deliver my daughter to me tonight.”
Felix picked at his claws, his swivel chair turned toward the windows behind his desk. Outside, he could just make out some little Amauris running around in the dark, squabbling over a ball and tackling each other into the soft grass. It was damn good to see. He and the cousins never had the chance to run around like that, squealing like little piglets in the moonlight.
They’d had guns put in their hands too early and had been taught to compete with each other, not play. It was a miracle they’d managed to scrape together the camaraderie they had. Certainly none of the elders or their parents’ generation cared if there was loyalty between them.
Only Dora learned to value it. Too bad that revelation came too late. By the time she realized she’d made a mistake, she’d cultivated a generation of monsters.
It was Felix’s job to set that shit right. When his eyes tracked the progress of Will, one of the littlest children, pelting across the grass with a ball tucked against his chest, a tension he always seemed to carry eased. It was like releasing a held breath after a little too long. Good, but painful.
One day soon, his and Dahlia’s kid would join the rambunctious crew chasing after Will. They’d have a better life than the one he and the cousins had been given. Felix would make sure of it.
But whatever softness existed in him didn’t extend to Alastair fucking Bowan.
“Took you long enough to find her,” he replied, sniffing disdainfully. He could feel Milo’s exasperated frown from across the room, but he didn’t care about antagonizing the old prick. “Some father you are. I know you’re new to the job, but you really should keep a closer eye on your kids, or else folks might start to think you’re careless.”
Alastair wasn’t a yeller. He was too classy for that sort of thing. Instead, his voice came through the line with cool, crisp fury. “Tell me what it’ll take.”
Ransoms, tribute, exchanges of favors — these were all normal things in their world. Between syndicate families, kidnappings happened all the time. Generally, they were fairly civilized affairs, and one could expect to be treated well until the ransom was paid, since there was a chance the captor’s family members might meet the same fate someday.
To avoid a cycle of retribution, it was generally agreed that it was best to hold any torture or mistreatment until after ransom talks fell through.
So it was a perfectly reasonable request for Alastair to make. The problem was that when it came to Dahlia, Felix wasn’t anywhere close to reasonable.
Claws sinking into the armrest of his chair, Felix calmly informed him, “There is no amount of money that would make me give her to you.”
Milo made a sound from his place on the leather couch. It was a cross between a sigh and a groan.
Felix shot him a glare. He had no idea what his cousin thought he’d do. They both knew there wasn’t a chance he’d actually let Alastair buy Dahlia back.Maybeif she’d been someone else they could’ve reached a deal, but she wasn’t. She was his. She’d been his a lot longer than she’d been a Bowan, and he hadn’t been bluffing when he told her that the only way he’d step aside was if someone shot him.
Alastair could pry her from his cold, dead claws.
