Page 52 of Elven Prince

She was just trying to find common ground here, but clearly, that wasn’t working.

“Oh,that’sright…” Bruce snapped his fingers at her, his face lighting up with recognition. If he’d been taller, Rebecca had no doubt he would have snapped in her face. “I remember now. Your people had a bunch of custom work for illusions with all those whackadoo specs.”

“Yeah, that too,” she said as footsteps from the rest of her team finishing up around the house grew louder toward her.

“Okay. I get it.” Bruce looked her up and down with a smirk. “Let me guess. You’re wearing one of those cuffs right now, huh? I’d recognize my artistic mastery anywhere.”

She fixed him with a deadpan stare, fighting back the urge to pick the little shit up by the scruff of his neck and haul him across his own house. “No cuff. You’re notthatgood.”

The gnome barked out a laugh as Maxwell rounded the corner into the front room and Tig and Lerrick converged from around the other side. “All rooms are cleared. Windows and doors locked. No sign of anyone else on or around the premises.”

“Not yet.” Rebecca scanned the front of the house and nodded. “We’ll post up in this room. There’s no reason for them not to use the front door, especially when they’re expecting a one-man job in his own home. I want a barricade right here.”

Maxwell nodded, then signaled for Tig and Lerrick to get to work.

Rebecca headed out of the front room, scanning the house for anything they could use.

The gnome waddled after her. “This is all very fun and exciting or whatever, but who arethey,exactly?”

“We anticipate an attack on your home and an attempt on your life tonight,” Rebecca replied as she shoved the chairs away from the dining table in the adjacent room. “Which is why we’re here.”

“Yeah, you said that part already. And listen, I appreciate the fact that anyone even gives a shit, butwhoare we talking about, here?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Which, right now, is secondary to making sure you don’t die and we—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey! No!” Bruce waddled after Maxwell, who carried an old worktable by its top to haul it with him toward the front room. “Now wait just a minute. That’s an antique! And what the hell does that have to do with—”

The gnome gasped in horror when the worktable crashed down onto its side to join the other overturned pieces of furniture comprising this last-minute barricade in his home. “For fuck’s sake! No one told you to re-decorate. And what the hell is actually goingon?”

“Enough!” Maxwell whirled on the gnome, snarling and nearly lighting up the room with the next violent flash of his eyes before he towered over Bruce and thrust a finger in the gnome’s face. “Forget the furniture. Cut the babble. And stay out of our way whilewetry to keep you from getting murdered.”

Bruce glowered back up at the shifter, then slapped Maxwell’s finger out of his face, as if they were the same size and an equal match if it came to physical blows.

“Why?” he whined.

Maxwell clenched his fist, looking like he was on the verge of sending it into the gnome’s face before he shook it at their target instead with another growl. “It’s our fucking job.”

The gnome huffed out a laugh, unaffected by the shifter’s threatening nature, and folded his arms. “Fine. But I’m not paying you.”

Rolling his eyes, Maxwell spun away from Bruce to return his attention to readying for the battle they all expected.

When he found Rebecca glaring at him in disapproval, he blinked, paused as if he’d forgotten what he was doing, then growled out another sigh and stomped her way to look for more barricade furniture.

As he passed her, Rebecca leaned toward him and muttered, “Hannigan…”

Whatever he heard in her voice was enough to stop him long enough to meet her gaze.

She dropped her voice to not be overheard above the scraping, banging, and clunking of Tig and Lerrick working on the barricade while Bruce muttered angrily to himself and whined about his unsolicited remodel. “I need clear heads and self-control on this tonight.”

“And you’ll get it,” he hissed in equally low tones. “As long as the stunted chipmunk stays away from me.”

Then he blew past her to supposedly scour the next room for more hardy defensive materials.

Not that a barricade would do much good against the enemy if this mystery attacker was taking out dozens of magicals at a time without leaving a trace or alerting the victims to their impending deaths. But something was better than nothing.

And now she couldn’t help worrying about her Head of Security a little more than usual.

The only times she’d really seen him lose control, before his last episode in the Security office today, was when Rowan had still been part of Shade—the Blackmoon Elf always showing up out of nowhere, crowding their personal space, sticking his nose in their business, and pushing Maxwell’s buttons like it was his life’s purpose.

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