I catch a glimpse of Jasper’s face; it’s unreadable, but his fists are still clenched.
Slowly, the spell breaks. Maddox hurries forward to check on the kid on the floor, helping him sit up. Rook goes to Asher, pressing a cloth to his bleeding lip. Quietly, the others start murmuring amongst themselves.
“That was fucked up,” someone mutters.
“He just snapped…”
“Did you see his face? Guy was clearly somewhere else…”
“Think something happened earlier?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and step back, my head spinning. My heart is still jackhammering in my chest. A few brothers glance our way, unsettled, as if looking to us for what to do. We three—Dredyn, Jasper, and I—are supposed to be the steady ones. The example.
If the King loses his cool, the whole kingdom cracks.
I clear my throat, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
“All right, show’s over. Fight night’s done. Take care of them, then get the fuck out.”
There’s a shuffling as everyone starts moving. Two guys hoist the groaning sophomore under his arms and help him limp toward an old couch by the wall. Asher, with the split lip, refuses help at first, but he sways on his feet and eventually nods when Callum offers a shoulder.
Jasper and I stay behind as the others file out, quieter than I’ve ever seen them. What usually ends in laughs, backslaps, and beers is now a silent shuffle of feet on concrete. Jasper nudges aside a broken beer bottle with his boot, the glass scraping across the floor. Then he lifts his hands and signs,“He’s going to break something.”
I nod, understanding exactly who he means. Dredyn. Upstairs. Alone with whatever storm is raging in his head. If we’re lucky, he’ll break a chair or a door.
I lift my own hands and sign back,“Or someone.”
Jasper’s lips tighten, and we share a knowing look. If Dredyn finds the wrong target for his fury right now, there’ll be hell to pay.
I hoist myself up to sit on the edge of an old table, raking a hand through my sweat-damp hair. My pulse is finally slowing, but the adrenaline has left an ache in my muscles and a sour taste in my mouth.
“We’re the muscle of the Syndicate, Jas—the teeth.” I let out a dry, bitter chuckle that echoes in the now-empty room. “But even teeth rot from the inside if you grind them down long enough.”
Jasper arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t sign a reply. Heunderstands, though. None of us are indestructible, not even Dredyn. Not even the three of us together.
He steps closer and signs,“Something’s wrong with him.”
“Or someone…”I scrub a hand over my face. Screw it. There’s no point pretending we don’t know who we mean. “You think he’s acting this way because of his new little obsession?”
Jasper’s expression hardens just a touch. He doesn’t answer immediately, but when he does, his hands are precise, almost accusatory.“It’ll fade. He will find that she isn’t as alluring as he thinks. She’s just… Mara.”
I bark out a short laugh before I can stop myself. A fair hit. “Please. I’m not sure who you’re trying to convince with that,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.
He holds my gaze, saying nothing, but I catch the slightest shift in his posture.
“Anyway…” I say, letting the subject drop. There’s an unwritten rule we just broke by even mentioning a girl down here. We don’t bring up girls in the basement. Not in the ring. Not in the blood. Violence and vice… that’s what this place is for. But here we are, two hardened bastards in a blood-stained cellar, tiptoeing around the name of a girl like she’s cursed or some shit.
She’s already in our heads, creeping through the cracks. I know it, Jasper knows it, and Dredyn… Dredyn knows it most of all.
Jasper bends down to retrieve a fallen chair and sets it upright. He’s giving me an out, a chance to move on from this uncomfortable thread. I take it.
“Dredyn just needs to cool off,” I say, more to convince myself than him. I rub the back of my neck, where a bruise from last week’s bout still aches dully. “We’ll talk to him later, when he’s… himself again.”
Jasper doesn’t look fully convinced, but he lets it lie. He picks up a couple of empty beer cans, tossing them into a garbage bag we keep tucked by the stairs.
I step away from the table and start gathering a few strayboxing wraps someone left on the floor. The routine tasks feel oddly calming. “Go on up,” I say to Jasper after a moment. “I’ll finish up down here.”
He pauses, giving me a long look.“Don’t stay too long,”he signs, patting my shoulder.
