They greet each other with the same hug Alder gave the man at the door—a rough slap of palms, a half-embrace, and forearms gripping like they’re sizing each other up even in affection. Alder does the same with the bald one, the Sergeant-at-Arms according to the patch on his cut.
It’s strange, watching them move like this, with a familiar, rough-edged affection and a show of loyalty and blood that comes easy between them. The Basin Kings are feared throughout New Brunswick, seen as dangerous and violent. And I know that’s not wrong. But standing in the middle of it now, I’m seeing a different side of it. Control, respect, and family. Even when it’s wrapped in threat and warning.
And I’m not sure how I fit into all of this.
“So all the fuckers showed, huh?” Alder says, scanning the crowd with a tilt of his chin.
The King’s President nods, gesturing towards a guy across the room, standing stiffly beside a Basin King who looks like he’d snap his neck if he so much as breathed wrong. “Got Trip on our scaredy-cat,” he says. “Turns out that ‘no’ he gave you didn’t hold much weight. All the others are here and appear eager.”
Then he shifts his gaze towards another man standing off to the side, looking to be in his mid-thirties, fussing with the sleeves of a suit jacket that costs more than my car. He’s surrounded by slick-suited men who look right at home here, but everything about this guy says he’d rather be anywhere else.
“I suspect our friend Danny might need a little… support.”
Alder just nods. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Then K. Roy’s eyes land on me.
It’s brief, but something in the shift of his jaw and the way his gaze cuts back to Alder makes my chest tighten. Something passes between them, but it’s too quick to catch.
Alder doesn’t so much as flinch as he pulls out a cigarette, settles it between his lips, and lights it with a flick of his lighter. “Anything else?” he asks through a drag.
His president just shakes his head. “No.”
Alder doesn’t say another word as he turns, places a firm hand on my shoulder, and steers me away.
“Kurt, my uncle,” he says, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Been more like a dad since mine was murdered fifteen years ago. Not that he had any business raising kids, but I was fifteen, so I was raised enough, and I turned out just fine.” He stops near the middle of the warehouse. “But he helped me find and kill the guy who murdered my father, so he figured out the role eventually.”
I turn to meet his eyes, searching for the joke. But it isn’t there. He’s dead serious.
The haze of smoke from his cigarette curls around his face, catching the light in slow-moving ribbons that shift like shadow.His dark eyes stay locked on mine as my pulse pounds louder in my ears, part of me bracing for the instinct to run.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, I find myself staring into the black of his eyes, drawn deeper to all the jagged, dangerous edges of him. And suddenly, I’m painfully aware of my own body. My heart thumps sharply in my chest, almost like it’s matching the busy rhythm of this place, and the darkness surrounding us sinks into me through the cracks I’ve been trying to keep closed.
It feels... good. Andreal.
Smoke curls from his lips as he looks at me, and his words from earlier echo in my head.
I need to open you up.
“So…” I say, tearing my gaze from his and letting it slide towards the line of gleaming cars. “You steal these?”
Alder chuckles darkly. “Steal is such an ugly word.”
I glance back at him and lift an eyebrow. Murder is fine, but steal is ugly?
“We rehome,” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips.
A smile pulls at the corner of my own lips, and without realizing it, I take a deep breath in, letting the smoke from his cigarette burn through me. And something odd settles in my chest with it.
Something almost like… comfort.
I know I come from a very different world than this. A world of academia, where everything’s dictated by schedules and structure, endless meetings, performative politeness, and people too careful to say what they mean. Everything is perfectly buttoned up and filed neatly under professionalism and civility.
But here in Alder’s world… It’s wild, unapologetic, dangerous, andhonest.
He takes what he wants, never asks for permission… and helives.
