Page 67 of Devil May Lie

But his hoverbike, his literal prized possession, was currently in a heap of burning metal in the middle of his entranceway, and all he could think were all the ways he was going to make the asshole standing next to it pay.

The explosion sound had been them crashing the bike into the metal door. It’d dented and Madden had pressed the remote to lift it, curious when he found a group of four guys on the security camera. Guest had arrived through the side entrance, just a little too late with his warning that there was a group coming after Madden.

He’d left both the Racer and Bay in the bedroom upstairs with Berga, with orders not to leave the Butcher for any reason. There was no telling when he’d wake, and unconscious, he was vulnerable.

“It’s an interesting entrance,” Madden drawled, stopping in the living room area, far enough to keep some distance but close enough to react the second he got the chance. “Points for creativity. Pretty sure four generations of your family couldn’t afford that bike though. We’ll have to figure out a way to settle that debt.”

None of the four men were familiar to him, but one was a little cockier than the other three, clearly the leader. He stepped forward, grinning at the bike before he risked giving it a kick, quickly so as to ensure he didn’t catch any of the flames.

He was Vital, with purple hair and gray eyes. Would have been pretty even if not for his otherwise ugly features.

And the whole blowing up Madden’s hoverbike thing.

And not being the Butcher.

“Rich coming from you,” the man sneered. “That’s why we’re here. To settle a debt.”

“I don’t keep my own books,” he said. “So I have no idea who any of you are.”

One of the guys in the back seemed offended by that statement, another uncertain. Whoever they were, it was obvious by the reactions they falsely believed they were hot shit.

“Grimes and Fraunz,” the purple-haired one said.

“Right.” He shrugged. “Never heard of them.”

“We’re the number one loan company in the city!” one of the guys with red hair sputtered, offended.

“Isn’t that the Brumal?” Madden tugged at his ear. “And after them, it’s the Shepards. They’re the only ones the Brumal consider even a remote threat to their empire so…Grim and Funz? Not important.”

“It’s—” the annoyed man was cut off by his boss lifting his arm.

“It doesn’t matter. You know who we are now. We’re here to collect a debt you owe us.”

“I don’t owe anyone anything.” Madden slipped his hands into his front pockets. “There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Why? Because you’re a Royal and part of the Retinue?” the purple-haired man snorted derisively. “You think you’re all that? Too good for us? Think again. You ain’t Brumal, which means you’re not untouchable.”

Untouchable was exactly what he was, but with Berga upstairs, Madden didn’t want to waste time with unimportant details.

They were all going to be dead within a half hour anyway. No point in correcting dead men walking.

“You’re also made of money. What’s a few thousand coin to you? Nothing. But to us, it’s—”

“Get to the point.” Madden sighed. “What’s this supposed debt?”

“It was Eric Daubs debt initially,” the redhead explained.

“But you killed him,” the leader added, “so now it’s yours.”

“Right.” Idiots. “So I murdered someone who owed you coin, and you lot thought it would be a smart idea to storm in here, destroy my hoverbike, and threaten me? You said it yourself, I’m a member of the Retinue, a Royal, and known killer. What part of that equation made you wrongly assume I also must be a pushover?”

“Canham,” one of the other guys whispered to the leader nervously.

“Shut up,” the purple-haired man, Canham, growled back before reaching behind himself. He whipped out a blaster and aimed it at Madden’s chest, clearly not noticing how unaffected by the weapon Madden was. “It’s well past midnight, which means this place is practically vacant. Aside from a couple of racers, there’s no one here who can help you. Doesn’t matter who you are, you’re not immune to bullets.”

Well, that much was true at least.

“Wire over the coin and we’ll leave.”

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