Page 44 of Carry Your Debt

“So, what’s good, Rox City?” he asks, flagging down a passing server with a lazy flick of a hand at my shoulder.

“We’re here, we wore the masks. All deliveries have been made. What else do you need?” Tristan’s tone remains dismissive, but there’s a pulsing tick of agitation along his temple. I bump my thigh against his.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Gabriel smirks, ordering both himself and his brother a gin. “Can’t a group of friends just sit down and enjoy a nice meal together?”

No.We sure as fuckweren’tfriends.

The nicest way to put it would be to say these two Northern clowns were our handlers. They told us whenever our boss said to jump, and we jumped. We didn’t ask questions. We justjumpedand hoped to hell it was fucking high enough.

In reality, the Donato brothers held our leashes, and they knew it. If they wanted to, they could whisper in Sandro Alessi’s ear that we weren’t pulling our weight and our hard-fought Underworld meal ticket would be no more.

“Ah, fuck,incoming,” Raphael mutters darkly, running a hand through his oddly bisected hair. He’s looking over in the direction of the Southern tables as he says it, and when my eyescautiously follow his, I see there’s a large man now bearing down on us.

A large man whose craggy face is partially covered by black feathers.

You can’t trust any of them.

Gabriel flicks a look back over his shoulder. “Well, that’s our cue,” he chuckles, rising back to his feet. He buttons his jacket closed with one hand.

“Yeah, it’s been fun, boys,” Raphael rasps, viciously squeezing both mine and Atlas’s shoulders before he too slips from his seat.

“I think you know we’ll be in touch,” Gabriel adds with a pointed look, startling the server who just appeared by scooping their matching gin orders off the tray himself.

“Be good now.” His twin salutes us with his glass and a final mocking smile.

The two of them then turn and stalk away right as the Suit arrives. He glares at their backs, watching their leisurely retreat toward the exit.

“Can we help you?” Tristan asks imperiously.

The man’s eyes swing back to our table, assessing my brother’s straightened posture and folded hands. Not exactly sure what it is he’s looking for, but Tristan only gazes back at him expectantly.

He grunts. “The four of you will be having dinner with the Gray Man tonight,” he declares in a no-nonsense tone. His voice sounds like he chews rocks for a living.

Tristan tips his head, subjecting the Suit to his own inspection. “I’m sorry? Are you sure you have the right table?”

The Suit’s weatherbeaten features finally crack with a smirk. “Yeah, kid, I’ve got the right table.”

The man,who didn’t bother to introduce himself, leads us straight to the last section of the hall any of us want to be sitting at right now.

How the fuck do we pretend we have no idea who either of them are?

Tristan and Atlas might have professional poker faces, but I’m always told I wear my mood out for everyone to see. And Lake is a single glance from Sabine away from climbing these red walls.

“The Rox Boys, sir,” our escort says as he starts assigning us to our seats. He puts Atlas on his boss’s left, while Tristan is placed directly across the rounded table from him. A pouting Lake is given the spot to Tristan’s right, and I’m left acting as a human buffer between him and Sabine.

Just fucking great.

“I’ve been hearing good things coming out of Roxborough about you boys,” the Gray Man says languidly by way of greeting. He’s leaning back in his chair, a leg crossed over the other and a glass balanced on his knee.

Sabine is picking idly at a plate of sushi. Her back is straight, but her face is ghost-white.

I’m trying not to stare at her and give our connection away when the Gray Man beats me to it. “I believe you have already met my daughter,” he continues cooly, lifting two fingers in her direction, and if it hadn’t been for Sabine’s offhanded remark about Midas earlier, I think my eyes would have bugged out of my head.

He thinks I’m Sebastian’s daughter rather than a ward.

As it is, I still have to work to keep my jaw hinged shut. Tristan clears his throat in surprise. He offers a polite shake of his head. “I don’t believe so, sir.”

“She’s just started at your Academy,” Grayson prompts, with a feline smile.

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