Page 62 of Heirs of Havoc

“Something tells me you couldn’t handle it if that was the truth.”

My eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His do too, a mocking gesture. “Buckle up.” Dom starts the engine before pulling a cigarette to his lips. Gold-tipped. And before I can, Dom revs and turns into the oncoming traffic. He speeds through the city streets, dark electro bumping in the background. When my head hits the headrest, I know this was the best decision I’ve made. Ever.

It only takes a couple of blocks before we’re pulling into an old warehouse building. All the windows blacked out. After parking, Dom grabs my backpack before I follow him towards the double glass doors. Bass bumps from inside. More heavy dark electro. The bulky guy at the entrance steps to the side, letting us in.

Then everything quiets.

“Everyone get the fuck out.” Dom doesn’t yell, but everyone moves as if there’s a fire. The only three that don’t move are the ones I don’t expect to. The twins lean back against the black velvet pool table, Lev’s dimple showing with a smile on his face. His almost identical brother, Vlad, has a scowl, watching as everyone leaves. Dom’s already by the bar as I look around the space. A dimly lit room with black tables and chairs greets us, small lanterns on each one. A square black bar sits in the middle of it all, a small DJ booth tucked to the side. It’s classy, red velvet stools matching long red velvet curtains. On the stage next to the booth, Dom’s other best friend, Feliks, eyes me, but his fingers stay on his guitar. The rest of the band walks off the stage, leaving their instruments.

“Wanna come home with me, sweetie?” A weight comes to my hand, someone’s stiff fingers grazing mine and when I pull away, he gets closer, his vodka breath coming with it. “You got somewhere to be?”

This was a bad idea.

I could be home now, in my comfortable bed, in my comfortable house, with Sarah bringing me a bowl of homemade pasta. But now I have this idiot with a grin on his face, expecting me to give it up for a place to stay.

POW!

My shoulders rise to my ears.

“Fuck!” The creep drops my hand, that hand flying to his ear. Blood pours from it, dripping down his fingers. “You fucking shot me!”

“Don’t make it twice,” Dom chuckles, a threat behind his laughter.

“She’s just a—”

Crack!

Vlad breaks the pool stick over his knee, his eyes narrowing. “Say it.”

“You guys think you’re real slick messing with Martin Merlo’s daughter, but you’re only bringing curses on all of us. You know—”

POW!

He ducks before my hands come to my ears, gunshots flying past my head. The idiot makes a run for it, a chuckle filling the room. Not Vlad’s. He’s way too pissed off to laugh.

“Fucking dumbass,” Lev says between his laughs. “Close the door, will you M&M?”

When I do, bullet holes decorate the door, none of them penetrating it.

“Found a stray on the way.” Dom reaches behind the bar for a bottle of vodka, like he didn’t just shoot a guy. “She’s staying with us.”

“You run away from daddy?” Feliks mutters, his fingers back on his strings.

“No,” I spit. But that’s exactly what I did. My toes curl in my shoes. “Yes.”

Feliks keeps his eyes on his guitar. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Or do you want a distraction?” Dominik walks towards me, wiggling that bottle in his hand.

When he gets in front of me, looming over my frame, I take it. “Distract me, Federov.”

* * *

BANG!

“Where the fuck is she?”

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