Page 73 of Savage Desire

As the pat down finishes, I glance at Finch standing beside my uncle, hating the smug look on his face. He either didn’t tell my uncle of the agreement we made earlier, or despite it, encouraged him to take this drastic action.

Fucker.

“You kept me waiting, boy,” my uncle sneers, the mask remaining firmly in place since there are still innocent people around us.

I blink at him with a shrug. “How good of you to take matters into your own hands,” I reply, and I see the slightest twitch at his jaw.

He despises my attitude. He says it reminds him of my father, who always manages to bring a sneer to his lips when mentioned. I may not have many memories of my father, but knowing I have traits of his feels more like a blessing than acurse because my alternative is admitting I have traits from my mother, and subsequently, the man before me.

“Don’t try me,” he growls, his eyes swirling through the small holes cut into the mask, and I try not to roll my eyes at him.

Tucking my hands into my pockets, I force a tight smile to my lips. “What do you want, Uncle?”

A blur of black darts in front of my vision has me regretting trying to go for the whole nonchalant vibe because I leave myself defenseless as a fist pummels into the side of my face.

Fuck.

Finch.

A gasp echoes from behind us, drawing attention from a few of The Crow’s men, but I keep my eyes locked on the asshole throwing his weight around. If I turn around, I know it’s Polaris I’m going to find. I know that gasp was her, but I don’t need these fuckers to even think that she registers on my radar.

Rubbing at my jaw, I glare at Finch, trying to keep my heart rate steady.

“It’s The Crow to you,” my uncle’s right-hand man snarls, spitting at my feet, the challenge clear in his eyes, and I sneer at him.

“Fuck off, Finch.”

He steps toward me, ready to throw another hit my way, but I’m prepared this time. To my surprise, though, my uncle’s voice cuts through the air instead.

“Outside, Asher. Now.”

He doesn’t wait to see if I follow, he just takes off toward the doors behind him, and like the well-trained dog that I am, I follow his lead.

The bite of the night air does little to cool my skin. I take a moment to watch the students of Trinity Falls Academy hurry back toward campus and I can only hope that Polaris, Lincoln, and the others are among the crowd.

My uncle heads toward the left of the building, where the security lights are a little dimmer, and surrounded by his men, certain no one can see him, he removes the infamous mask. The scarred skin that marks his chin creeps over his cheek, turning jagged at his temples. It’s a mixture of burn scarring and knife wounds. Battle scars nonetheless, ones that he relishes in.

His gaze threatens to send a shudder down my spine as he assesses me. Even after all this time, it still leaves me feeling like that same nervous little boy.

“Leave us,” he orders, and in sync, his men turn around, offering us a hint of privacy while still protecting my uncle. It doesn’t really make any sense to me why they bother, they can still hear us, but I guess it allowsThe Crowto feel royal and powerful as his precious followers turn and bow their heads at his command.

He crooks his finger, drawing me closer, and when I step within his reach, his men adjust to cage me in his inner circle. My least favorite place to be in the world.

“I require an artifact,” he states, and my eyebrows crinkle.

“Okay?”

He sighs, disappointment coating the sound as if explaining himself to me is beneath him. “I requireyouto get it for me.”

There it is.

I don’t instantly argue, though. That’s not how this works. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

His lips curl and he bares his teeth, but it’s not a smile. Far from it. “Figure it out, all the details are in here,” he states, digging his hand inside his long leather jacket to reveal an envelope.

I take the brown packet from his grasp, but let it hang at my side instead of opening it. “What do I get in return?”

His eyes gleam. That’s how this works. He brings a job, and I wager whether what he has to offer in return is worthy of mytime. Truth be told, it always is, because this man is nothing if not meticulous in his dealings.

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