I should keep an eye on him and his friends, in case one of them was stupid enough to bring a weapon. But I can’t look away from Aly – from the fear on her face and the way she looks at me.
“What the fuck?—”
I don’t let him finish. Instead, I steer him through the bar with one hand, violence locking my forearm around his throatas I drag him through the rear exit. Out into the hot Savannah night.
He claws at me, weak and uncoordinated, shoes scraping against the floor and then the asphalt. Aly is following – my eyes are on her, always, and she trails us as if a thread connects her fate to mine. Her voice is loud and sharp with alarm, but I can’t hear the words for the rush of rage in my head.
The alley door slams open, and I throw him through it.
The sound he makes when he hits the brick wall is satisfying in a way that stirs the darkest parts of me. I’m not a hands-off boss, but it’s been a long time since I’ve snapped bone so deliberately.
The boy wheezes, hand going to his neck, eyes wide and wet as realization finally settles in.
He made a mistake.
The Foundry’s music dulls behind us, bass thudding through the brick walls like a distant heartbeat. The alley is narrow, but the street isright there.If I make him bleed, it won’t take long for that blood to reach the grate on the road.
“You don’t—” he gasps, moving to get to his feet. “You don’t get to?—”
I hit him.
My fist connects with a crunch, snapping his head to the side. He goes down hard, shoulder cracking against the ground, breath leaving him in a strangled rush. I crouch, grab a fistful of his perfectly coiffed hair, and drag him back upright so he’s forced to look at me.
“You touched her,” I say calmly. I’m only vaguely aware that there are people behind me somewhere—more than just Aly now, the warmth of bodies gathering, though I swear I can feel her. “That was your first mistake.”
He tries to focus, pupils wide and arrogance pouring off him. He hasn’t learned yet. Must not be from Savannah.
“She’s a whore,” he slurs, desperation curdling into cruelty. “That’s what this place is, isn’t it? She’s?—”
I break his nose.
The crack echoes, sharp and final, and blood pours down his face. He gasps into it, then screams – high and raw. Hands flutter uselessly as I let him drop to the ground, then drive my boot into his ribs.
Once.
Twice. Until he curls inward with a groan. Stops moving.
This is reckless. Part of me knows it. Elsewhere in the city my men are moving, shifting like pieces on a chessboard. But none of them know I’m here; exposing myself over a woman who does not belong to me,cannotbelong to me.
This is not how I’m supposed to operate. This is how kings fall.
But I can’t stay away from her. I can’t.
When I turn, Alyona Demsky is still watching. Her friend, the girl with the dyed red hair and the bad attitude, is talking fast and low to her. Someone has brought Aly a coat or a jacket, and she clutches it to her chest, barely hiding her full breasts and freckled skin.
The boy tries to crawl away. My ears prick up.
I turn and drag him back by an ankle, ignoring the way he cries out.
“You don’t get to put your hands on women,” I tell him, crouched down once more. “And you especially don’t get to put your hands on her.”
“She’s just a—” his eyes are unfocused, but he’s smart enough not to make the same mistake again. “A bartender. I didn’t know—” his words bubble into blood on his lips. He’ll need an ambulance, most likely, judging from the wheezing.
“Ignorance won’t save you.”
I hit him again, slower and controlled this time. The way my uncle taught me when I was young, angry, and fresh off the boat – when I needed to learn restraint. His head strikes the wall, a dull thud, and he goes slack.
“Jesus Christ,” someone whispers. Someone else is crying. More people have gathered now, drawn by noise and curiosity. Patrons bleed out the back door, most of them in expensive suits or deceptively simple t-shirts and jeans. Their gazes move over me, but the moment they register who I am, they look and move away. Disappear back into The Foundry or out into the night. Not wanting to get involved.
