Page 137 of Kingmakers, Graduation

I shove open the swinging doors. Four faces turn in my direction, each bearing a completely different expression: Sabrina’s is a flash of surprise that quickly turns to annoyance, Jasper looks like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, Krystiyan’s henchman shouts something at the other goon in Ukrainian—probablyYou were supposed to be watching the door, you dumb shit—and Krystiyan himself gives me a smirk so enraging that my hand twitches to shoot him right then and there.

“Adrik. Nice of you to join us.”

“Out,” I say, pointing at Sabrina. “Right now.”

Sabrina doesn’t move an inch. She crosses her arms over her chest, coolly replying, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jasper would happily leave if he weren’t literally in the midst of handing a big bag of our cash over to Krystiyan. He’s frozen in place, unable to complete the deal right under my eye, and likewise unable to take back what’s already been set in motion.

It’s Krystiyan’s goon who moves first, reaching into his jacket.

He’s about ten times slower than he’d need to be for that maneuver to go anywhere. Before he can pull his hand out, I’ve got my gun in his face, hissing, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“The deal’s already done,” Krystiyan says, smug and satisfied.

“Then it can be undone.”

I pick up the black duffle bag at Sabrina’s feet and fling it in Krystiyan’s face hard enough that he stumbles backward. His hair is disarranged, his cheeks blotchy with anger.

“Keep the money,” I say to Jasper.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sabrina cries, stepping between Krystiyan and me, getting right in my face. “We need that product!”

“Not from him.”

“You’re being insane! I?—”

Before she can say another word, I stoop and seize her around the thighs, throwing her over my shoulder and bodily carrying her out of the kitchen. She shrieks like a harpy, hitting my back with all her might, screaming, “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK ADRIK PUT ME DOWN OR I’LL?—”

“Let’s go,” I bark at Jasper.

I don’t wait to see if he follows. I’m carrying Sabrina out of the restaurant, back to the car, where I fling her in the passenger seat and close the door in her face.

Jasper is right behind me, loading the money back in the trunk.

“Bring my bike home,” I order, trading him keys.

Sabrina is still screaming at top volume as I climb in the front seat.

“How fucking dare you?—”

“How dare YOU?” I bellow back at her, twisting the key so hard I almost snap it off the fob. The engine roars to life and I peel away from the restaurant, my hands shaking on the wheel. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this angry. “You take my lieutenant and make a deal behind my back after I forbid you to do it?”

“Forbid me!” Sabrina sneers. “You’re not my father and you’re not my fucking boss! This is my business as much as yours, my fucking product! I need those supplies, and you blew it up for nothing, because you’re paranoid, because you want to be in control!”

I’m weaving through traffic, speeding way too fast. So angry that I could jerk the wheel and send us both careening into a semi-truck just to spite her.

“How did you even know where we were?” Sabrina demands.

“I put a tracker on your phone.”

She stares at me, mouth open, face pale with rage.

Then she pulls her cellphone out of her pocket, unrolls the window, and flings it out onto the road. Her phone smashes on the pavement, the pieces run over immediately by a delivery truck.

“Really fucking clever!” I shout at her.

She’s breathing shallow, chest hitching, no color in her face. Her lips are ashy and her eyes wide and unblinking, burning with cold fire.

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