Chapter 1: The Blood Bet

The smell of banal bourbon and cheap cigars in the Navia Syndicate’s underground summerhouse generally made me monkeyshine. Tonight, it just tasted like bobby

and a bad feeling. 

" Please, Malrec. Do not do this," my sister Kaerith rumored. Her voice was shaking, a thin thread about to snap. 

I stood behind her, shoulders hunkered , head down. I played my part well Aradaa the Weak. The sickly, book- hung up son with a endless cough and suits that were three sizes too big. Under the heavy hair of my jacket, however, my skin burned. The muscle I’d erected in 300 AM basement sessions was screaming for release. My knuckles pained to hit commodity. 

But I stayed still. In our family, showing strength was a death sentence.However, he’d throw me into his meat- grinder wars before I could blink, If my father knew I could fight. 

Don Malrec Thornvale did n’t indeed look at us. His eyes were bloodshot, projected on the cards in his pulsing hands. contrary him sat Garron Blackmere. Garron was not a bettor ; he was a scavenger. He smelled the spoilage on our family and came to peel the skin back. 

" I’m all in," Malrec croaked. 

He did not slide chips. He slid a single, essay- dampened diploma across the green felt. 

" What the f**k is that?" Garron asked, his voice a low grate. 

" The deed to her." Malrec refocused a yellowed cutlet at Kaerith." Collateral. Five times of service. Debt collection. Enforcement. Whatever you want." 

Kaerith’s hand flew to her mouth, a sob Escaping her lips. My palpitation swiped in my cognizance — a metrical , violent shower. My father was dealing my family to a man who treated people like used cigarettes. 

" Deal," Garron sniggered. He flipped his cards. A full house. 

Malrec’s hand went limp. He did not cry. He did not indeed apologize. He just reached for his drink and drained it. 

" No!" Kaerith squalled as Garron stood up. His massive, scarred hand locked around her bicep." Aradaa, help me! Father, please!" 

Garron hauled her toward the personality exit like a sack of grain." Move it, girl. We’ve got a lot of stops to make tonight, and you’re going to be the one taking the punches." 

The room blurred. The' sickly scholar' failed right there coming to the blackjack table. 

I moved. 

I was not just presto; I was effective. I caught them in the dim hallway where the murk hid the shelling wallpaper. Garron’s guards did not indeed turn around before I hit them. 

I seized Garron’s wrist — the one bruising my family’s arm. I did not pull. I twisted. 

Snap. 

The sound of the bone splintering was loud in the narrow hall. Garron let out a guttural roar, dropping Kaerith. 

" What the hell?" one of the guards yelled, reaching for his holster. 

I did not give him the chance. I dived , a stiletto sliding from my sleeve into my win. It felt like an extension of my arm. I did not aim to kill; I aimed to disable. I slashed the lead guard’s forearm, also drove my knee into the alternate man's solar supersystem. They went down in a mound of swearing and blood. 

" Aradaa?" Kaerith heaved . She goggled at me like I was a ghost." You. you can fight?" 

" Get behind me," I snapped. My voice was not a earthquake presently. It was sword. 

I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell her I’d spent times hiding my training so I could ultimately get us both out of this hole. But the hallway doors at the far end exploded off their hinges. 

The air changed incontinently. The scent of bourbon was gone, replaced by commodity wild and raptorial. Men in politic gear swamped the space. They moved with a nimble grace that was not mortal. 

The Dreadfang Clan. 

They were the' Beasts' of the northern homes. Shifters. They did not use ordnance; they did not need them. 

" Who’s in charge of this s ** thole?" the lead enforcer barked. He'd a jagged scar running from his observance to his chin. 

Malrec stumbled out of the summerhouse room, his face blench as a distance." I — I've the plutocrat! I just need further time!" 

The enforcer laughed. It was a dry, playing sound." We do not want your credits, Thornvale. The Boss is tired of your defenses. He wants a pound of meat." 

My father’s eyes danced around. They landed on me. He did not look proud that I’d just taken down three men. He looked like he’d set up a winning lottery ticket in the trash. 

" Take him," Malrec said, pointing at me. 

My stomach dropped." What?" 

" He’s been caching," Malrec continued, his voice getting stronger." He’s a sensation. Look at what he did to Blackmere’s men. He’s worth ten dogfaces. Take the boy. Clear my debt." 

" You b ** tard," I whizzed." You’re dealing your own son?" 

" I’m settling a bill," Malrec wrangle." And munitions are meant to be traded." 

The Dreadfang enforcer stepped closer, smelling the air. He looked at me like I was a high cut of steak." The Boss does not want a dogface, old man." 

Garron, clinging his shattered wrist on the bottom, let out a wet, pained laugh." You idiots. You suppose he is going there to fight? The Dreadfangs do not need dogfaces. They need a toy. A enough little Vaelis Napoleon to break until there is nothing left." 

The horror crawled up my chine. A" mortal immolation." 

I looked at Kaerith. She was pulsing. She was' wolfless' — born into a world of shifters without a beast of her own. In our family, that made her a target.However, they’d take her anyway, If I did not go. Or they’d kill us both right then. 

" I’ll go," I said. My voice echoed in the hall." But only if you subscribe a release. Right now. Kaerith is free. No debts. No claims. She leaves the megacity tonight with enough credits to noway look back." 

The enforcer signed." Fine by me. The Boss only asked for one." 

He did not stay for a contract. He pulled a heavy set of iron impediment from his belt." Hands, Prince." 

I looked at Kaerith one last time. Run, I gestured with my eyes. 

The cold iron snapped shut around my wrists. It was not just heavy; it felt wrong. The moment the essence touched my skin, a strange, primitive bite strained into my bones. My strength did not leave me, but it felt. muffled. Like a fire trapped behind a slipup wall. 

They dragged me toward a black, armored SUV footling at the check. Rain began to hurtle the pavement, turning the neon lights of the megacity into bleeding smears of red and blue. 

As the door slammed shut and the cinches engaged, I pressed my forepart against the cool glass. High above the gauze, the moon was a sharp, gray hook. Looking at it made my heart thrash against my caricatures. 

I felt a pull. A tether to commodity dark and ancient that I did not understand. 

" Drink to the end of your life, sprat," the guard in the frontal seat murmured. 

" No," I rumored, my fritters entwining into a fist despite the chains." Just the end of his." 

The SUV braked as we approached a massive, fort- suchlike estate on the edge of the forestland. The gates moaned open like the jaws of a monster. Rows of fortified men stood in the yard, their heads bowed toward a figure standing on a high deck. 

A voice crepitated over the vehicle's intercom — gravelly, deep, and wobbling with a power that made the hair on my arms stand up. 

" Bring the Vaelis Prince to the kennel," the voice commanded." I want to see if he bites."