I stare at Lonari, anger boiling up through my fear.
“You call this business?” I snap.
Lonari’s eyes slide to me, unreadable. “I call it Tuesday.”
“That’s not funny,” I hiss.
“No,” he agrees, and his voice drops into something colder. “It’s not.”
He steps closer, stopping beside me, and the scent of him hits me—cleaner than before, soap and leather overlaid with the faint iron note that never leaves him. He looks down at the kneeling man.
“Skimming from the girls,” Lonari says softly. “That true?”
The man shakes his head frantically. “No— I swear— I?—”
Lonari crouches, slow, controlled, bringing his face closer to the man’s. His tone stays almost conversational.
“If you’re stealing from them,” he says, “you’re not stealing from the house. You’re stealing from people who can’t afford to lose anything. You understand the difference?”
The man sobs. “I— I was going to pay it back.”
Lonari’s eyes narrow slightly. “Everybody’s gonna pay it back. Eventually. That’s kind of the point.”
I swallow hard. “Lonari?—”
He doesn’t look at me. “Jordan. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I snap. “Don’t care?”
He finally turns his head toward me, and the look in his eyes is sharp enough to cut.
“Don’t mistake me,” he says quietly.
I hold his gaze, breathing hard. “Then explain yourself.”
He straightens, towering again, and gestures with a small flick of his hand.
The female enforcer releases the man’s jaw and stands.
Lonari says, “We don’t hurt civilians.”
I blink. “You just?—”
“Civilians,” he repeats, emphasizing it. “People trying to live. People who pay what they owe. People who don’t prey.”
He points one clawed finger toward the kneeling man.
“This,” he says, voice low, “is a predator. He steals from girls who work the floor because he thinks they’re too scared to fight back. He’s not a victim. He’s a parasite.”
The man sobs harder. “Please?—”
Lonari doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t posture. He just says, “Put him in the ledger cage. Two days. No food from the house. Let him sit with his hunger and his choices.”
The male enforcer nods quickly. “Yes, boss.”
They haul the man up.
The man looks at me one last time, eyes pleading.
