Page 65 of Pretty Vengeful Queen

She takes a deep breath, then puts on a determined smile. “Well, then they’re not going to help West Point either, right?”

“Right.”

I exchange a look with my brothers. Technically, that wasn’t a lie, and damn, I love our girl even harder for trying to keep our spirits up. Still, I see my own gut feeling reflected back in Maddoc and Logan’s eyes.

Whatever The Six want, it’s ain’t gonna be good.

* * *

We head to Saraven,the upscale club that’s understood to be neutral ground, once it gets dark out. The four of us are silent as we’re ushered through the ritzy front areas of the club to the same room we were summoned to last time. And just like last time, the six true leaders of Halston’s underground are seated behind a long table on a raised dais, the only piece of furniture in the room.

Also like last time, shortly after we’re brought in front of them, McKenna is shown in with a posse of his goons posturing behind him.

I scowl before I can help it, then school my face fast. But fucking hell. If we were anywhere else, I’d be tempted to end this thing permanently by putting that shit stain in the ground right now. Next to me, Maddoc suppresses a barely audible growl, no doubt having much the same thought. Even Logan twitches a little, the barest hint of the raging emotion we’re all feeling about those assholes rippling through his normally impenetrable facade.

“Thank you for coming,” says the dark-haired woman in the middle, her blue eyes piercing even from a distance.

Ayla Fairchild. If ever there’s a woman whose spine of steel reminds me of our princess, at least by reputation, it’s her.

Maddoc murmurs some platitude in greeting and McKenna proves he’s as dumb as he is aggressive by failing to show her respect as he grunts his response.

Ayla doesn’t call him on it. None of The Six do. But I can see on their faces that each takes note of his attitude.

It’s almost enough to lighten my spirits for a second.

Almost.

“You’ve been called in because, despite our earlier warning, there was another large altercation that brought the attention of the police where it shouldn’t be,” Ayla starts without any further preamble. “That’s unacceptable.”

I hear Maddoc’s teeth grind, even though he keeps his face outwardly calm.

Before he can formulate a response, McKenna jumps in.

“West Point is happy to follow your directive, ma’am,” he says with an ingratiating smile. “All my people have been warned. But when the Reapers start shit with us, we gotta defend, you know?”

Ayla raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “No. I don’t know. Are you saying that the Reapers are responsible for the shoot out and warehouse fire that drew so much attention last night?”

“That’s right,” McKenna says, puffing out his chest. “They fucking ambushed us.”

“That’s not what happened,” Maddoc says, his voice hard. “The warehouse was ours. The attack happened on our territory.”

Ayla turns her attention to Maddoc. “Attack?”

McKenna scoffs loudly. “That’s not—”

“Be quiet.”

Ayla doesn’t raise her voice, or even look at him, but I guess the piece of shit does have a shred of self-preservation instinct after all, because he actually shuts the fuck up.

His face sure as shit doesn’t like being treated like that, though.

I almost smirk. I’ve got self-preservation instincts too though, so I don’t.

“What happened?” Ayla asks Maddoc. “Are you contradicting McKenna’s account of this mess?”

He doesn’t twitch, doesn’t even look toward the West Point delegation, and I get it. My brother has a lot of control, and right now, he needs it to navigate the treacherous waters we’re stuck in, called on the carpet like this.

But some things—and Austin motherfucking McKenna is one of them—are enough to break even Maddoc’s iron control.

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