Page 76 of In the Shadows

When Davenport came to us last year asking to bring black market organs into the city as a new business, he was immediately shot down. We don’t want that shit here, but he couldn’t seem to grasp how dead people with missing organs showing up around New York was a potential problem. Probably because he’s a fucking idiot.

“And you think once they’re gone, you’ll be able to do whatever you want?”

“Don’t you want to be able to enjoy your last few years as the leader of your family with all the money you make staying in your pocket?”

There’s silence for a moment, and I hold my breath while I wait for his response. Whatever words come out of his mouth will be the difference between a war breaking out and not. We’re not going to go down without a fight, and if he thinks we will, he truly is as stupid as we think he is.

I glance down at the monitor with the trackers, and my eyes widen.

“Bishop’s tracker is down.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

BISHOP

One moment I’m listening to Davenport talk shit about how he can’t wait to overthrow us, and in the next, everything goes dark.

The pain of metal hitting the back of my head barely has time to register before I lose consciousness, and I have no idea how long I’m out before I wake.

My head is throbbing, unsurprisingly, and almost immediately I realize my arms are bound behind my back.

I blink my eyes open, forcing the stars away as agony forces its way through my head. Fuck. They got me good.

I glance around, trying to keep my head steady as bile climbs up the back of my throat. It’s been a while since I’ve had a concussion, but I know that’s exactly what this is without Rogers having to shine a light in my eyes.

The dark room is empty aside from one other chair, and the only light filtering into the tiny concrete box is from the small window at the top of the door.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think I’d woken up in prison.

I groan as I tug at the zip ties around my wrists, the harsh plastic immediately slicing into my skin. I don’t have much hope of breaking out of these myself, but it will only be a matter of time before the others come for me.

I reach my thumb toward my ring finger, looking for confirmation that the only piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn is still in place, but quickly find it missing.

Motherfucker.

I had the rings made for us not long after Caleb died, the crest of the Legion doubling as a tracker and a reminder to every fucker we meet that we rule this city.

But apparently Davenport has forgotten that little fact.

Footsteps grow closer, and I steel myself against whoever is about to come through the door.

I’m hardly surprised when Charles steps through the door, his right-hand man quickly closing the door behind them.

Knox Davenport is Charles’s cousin, but from what I’ve heard, they’re not close. His dark hair is always neatly in place, and his cold blue eyes seem more resigned every time I see him. I guess if I had to work for Charles, I’d be quietly dying inside as well.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Davenport grins, the madness in his eyes shining through. He does a good job of hiding it, but you don’t do the shit we do without being completely right in the head.

“Thanks for the headache,” I retort, my glare settling on him.

“Oh, you’re so welcome.” He strides toward me, taking the seat in front of me, his leg crossing over his knee in a fluent movement that I’ve seen him do more times than I care to count.

Fuck, I hate this asshole.

“What do you think you’re playing at, Charles?” I raise a brow. “Surely you know it won’t be long before they come for me, and how do you think you’re going to fare when they arrive?”

He shrugs. “You can’t touch me. It’s against the bylaws.”

I laugh, the sound bouncing around my head and forcing bile up my throat once again, but I quickly swallow it down. “Actually, it isn’t. Did you take the time to read the contracts you signed? Because very clearly it states that making a move against us, trying to overthrow us, or hurting one of us is punishable by death.”

---