Chapter 5

TYLER’S POV

The burn of whiskey sat warm in my throat, but it didn’t quite do the job. Not tonight.

“Your turn,” the nobleman slurred. His words sloshed together like cheap wine. He was sweating now, blinking hard to stay focused as he lifted his tiny glass with trembling fingers.

I leaned back in my chair, relaxed, loose, amused. My legs were sprawled lazily beneath the table. I had one boot hooked on the rung of his chair. The bottle of strong Obsidian Oak whiskey stood between us. It was nearly empty. He had taken three shots. I had taken seven.

And yet, I was still breathing. Still smirking. Still deadly clear.

“You sure you want to keep going, Lord Finner?” I asked, tipping my glass slightly in his direction. “You look like your liver’s waving the white flag.”

“I… I-I can take it…” he hiccupped. “We’re playing till someone confesses.”

I raised a brow. “Confesses what?”

His face turned red. Not from the alcohol, though that didn’t help. No, this was fury, shame, heartbreak balled into one stupid, trembling, pathetic expression. I could see it even before he blurted it out.

“You slept with my wife, didn’t you?” he muttered.

And there it was. The real reason behind this pathetic excuse of a drinking game.

I tilted my head. My lips twitched into a grin.

“That’s what this is about?” I chuckled, wiping the corner of my mouth with my thumb. “You got me here, pouring your overpriced liquor because you were too much of a coward to just ask?”

He looked away.

“Finner,” I said. My voice was low and calm. “I would’ve told you for free.”

He looked back at me with wide, hollow eyes. “So you did?”

I leaned in, resting my elbow on the table.

“Twice.”

His face crumbled. I could practically hear the sound of his pride shattering across the tfloor. He reached for the bottle like a man who had nothing left to live for, but I caught it mid-air and placed it just out of his reach.

“I mean, in my defense,” I added, “she did say you only lasted a minute and a half on your best day.”

He gasped. His mouth opened and his jaw trembled. Then he dropped his face into his hands.

I shook my head and sighed. I wasn’t heartless. Not entirely. Okay, maybe a little.

“Look, Finner,” I said, snapping my fingers at a nearby waitress. “You’re a noble. You’ve got a family name, money, land. You’ll get over it.”

He didn’t respond.

The waitress came over, and I pointed at her and her friend. Two curvy, wide-eyed things dressed in black lace and leather boots.

 “Ladies,” I said with a grin, “this poor soul’s had his ego stomped on. Do me a favor and make him forget who he is for a few hours.”

They both giggled and nodded. One leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

I turned back to the nobleman who was now slumped like a pile of mashed potatoes. I leaned in, close enough to whisper.

“Now we’re even,” I said softly.

I dropped a thousand dollars on the table, stood, and walked out of the bar into the chill of the night air. The second I stepped out, I felt it.

That weird silence? The one that usually comes before something either really romantic or really violent?

Yeah. Definitely not romantic.

I paused at the edge of the alleyway and looked up.

I saw seven guys. Seven very large, very serious-looking guys. They were all dressed in dark hoods. They were carrying enough weapons to invade a small village. One of them had a freaking mace. A mace. Who the hell carries a medieval weapon in the middle of a city?

I took a sip from my whiskey bottle and blinked. "Huh. Seven. That’s cute.”

The guy in front, tall, built like a doorframe, took a step forward and pulled out a rusty sword. “Hand over your money. Now.”

I looked down at my bottle. Then back up at them. Then back down.

“Can I finish my drink first?” I asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Well, now I’m sad.”

He snarled. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Hard?” I laughed. “My guy, this is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

They had no idea who I was. I was far out of my pack. It didn’t matter. I wanted to fight. This was going to be so fun.

The one with the mace swung it around in the air, clearly trying to look threatening. I took another sip.

“You know,” I added, licking whiskey from my bottom lip, “you really should’ve brought more guys.”

“Shut up!” one of them shouted.

Touchy.

The first one lunged at me. He had his sword raised like he was auditioning for a pirate movie. I stepped to the side, ducked under the swing, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it behind his back until I heard a loud pop followed by an even louder scream.

“That’s your fault, not mine,” I said helpfully, patting his shoulder before I threw him headfirst into the wall.

Six to go. The second guy charged with a dagger.

“A dagger?” I raised an eyebrow. “Adorable.”

He tried to stab me in the side. I blocked it with my forearm, elbowed him in the face, then kneed him in the gut. He folded like a cheap suitcase.

I caught him by the collar before he hit the ground and looked into his eyes. “Don’t feel bad. You tried.”

Then I dropped him. Five left. They were circling me now.

“Right,” I muttered to myself, rolling my shoulders. “Time for cardio.”

Two of them came at me from either side.

I jumped up, kicked off the left guy’s shoulder, flipped in the air (looked awesome, by the way), and landed right behind them. Before they could react, I grabbed both by the backs of their heads and smashed their skulls together like coconuts. They dropped instantly.

I turned to the others. “Is it me? Or is the floor just incredibly magnetic tonight?”

One of them growled and ran at me with a chain. He swung it wide — a rookie move. I caught it midair, tugged hard, and yanked him forward like he weighed nothing. As he stumbled, I uppercut him square in the chin, and he spun midair before landing flat on his back.

“Six,” I counted aloud.

The last two looked… unsure.

“You guys thinking of running?” I asked cheerfully. “I mean, I’d prefer you didn’t. But I won’t judge.”

They glanced at each other. One broke first. He turned and bolted. The other raised a club.

“Good choice,” I grinned.

He came at me swinging and to his credit, it almost connected.

Almost.

I ducked, sidestepped, grabbed his wrist mid-swing, twisted it, and pulled him around into a full-body slam that made the ground shake.

I looked at the last guy, the runner. He was now halfway down the alley.

“Last chance to impress me!” I called out.

He tripped face first then fell to the floor. He didn’t even more.

“…Well,” I muttered, brushing my sleeves off. “That was disappointing.”

I walked over, picked up my coat, and bent to grab my bottle, still upright on the pavement like it had politely waited for me to finish murdering people.

“Not a scratch,” I said, grinning at the bottle and taking a victorious swig.

I was just about to move till I saw a shadow on the wall. I rolled my eyes. I’d recognize that damn shadow anywhere.

“Kane” I said “Come out”

My brother, Kane, stepped out into the light. He smiled mischieviously.

“Your perception’s improved,” he said

I let out a groan. “Kane, please. I just got done fighting seven guys who had the combined brainpower of a loaf of bread. Can I get ten seconds of peace?”

But my brother was already walking into the light. He looked all serious and calm like he hadn’t just watched me perform street ballet with a side of violence.

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve been standing there the whole time like a vampire with commitment issues?”

Kane just raised an eyebrow. “Are you done talking?”

“Are you done lurking?”

But then— I froze. I felt something—no, someone.

I caught it. That scent. It hit me like lightning. It was faint but I caught it. it was a scent that knocked the wind out of my chest

I inhaled sharply. My heart stopped.

Her.

It was her. Kane’s body stilled too. I looked at him and I saw it in his eyes. The same fire. The same knowing.

She was near.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t have to.

We both turned at the same time and started moving. Fast.

No hesitation.

We were going to find her.