Page 94 of Outlaw Witch

“I guess... we look threatening without murdering any of them,” Roscoe mutters.

“Why not?” Zeph growls back. “Would send a clearer message not to fuck with us if we end them all right here and now.”

I roll my eyes at his bloodlust. “Dude, I’m not going to be killing anyone.”

A little breaking and entering, I’m good with.

Following people around for info gathering? Okay.

Stealing people’s stuff back? Sure.

But murder’s a whole other ballgame.

Dammit. I must like these dickheads a lot, or I wouldn’t have let them talk me into this.

Although, it’s better to have something to do. Sitting around while we wait for the new moon to come around is making me itchy. At least this way, it feels like I’m doing something useful.

Stupid feelings are very inconvenient. I’ve barely been home in weeks. I’ve been working my ass off and am low-key exhausted and stressed as all hell.

Plus, Fabian knows at least part of the secret I’ve been holding onto for over ten years. He also knows way more about Ember than he should.

Although, if that idiot wants to go blabbing about his illegal magic, that’s his choice.

Just so long as it doesn’t bite the rest of us in the ass.

“How about you choke them out a little while we explain how things are going to go?” Roscoe murmurs into my ear. His breath against the sensitive skin sends a delicious shiver through me and I catch his grin as he notices my reaction.

Damn stupid sexy mages don’t miss a thing. I need to tamp down my responses to them or they’ll know exactly what their presence does to me.

I shrug. “I can try, but they might find it a good time.”

Zeph snorts while Roscoe shoots me a wink before stepping into the light like he’s a ringmaster and this room is his circus.

“Evening, gents. We need to have a little chat with you. Clear a few things up.”

The moment they spot Roscoe, all five of the men are in motion. They jump to their feet, a couple of them grab human weapons and train them on him. The third stands, but doesn’t make a move. He’s the one that has my attention since I can feel a stirring of my magic, like it’s just waiting for him to strike.

“Fucking Christ, could he not have toned down the drama?” Zeph grumbles from beside me. “We better get in there before he gets himself shot in the face.”

He strides in and I scurry along behind him since apparently this isnota stealth mission. The moment we’re in view, the gun-toting men shift their attention—and the target of their weapons between the three of us.

But before they can do anything, I see a double of myself appear. I blink. When I look again, there are suddenly six, then nine of us. Roscoe must be using his illusion magic so that they won’t know which of us is the real one and which is a trick.

The men's eyes widen in confusion and they swing the guns around from one to the other of us.

“What’s this we hear about you using our clubs to peddle this poisonous shit? Don’t you fuckers know that half of the people in the city morgue are there thanks to Rapture?” one of the Roscoes spits.

“We warned you not to fuck with us,” Zeph growls.

“What can I say? The clubs are the perfect place to sell this shit. You can’t say you guys don’t know what other shady stuff usually goes on. You turn a blind eye to all that, so how come you’re making a big deal out of this?” one of the guys with a gun says.

Meanwhile, the fourth man tries to make a run for it with a duffel bag stuffed full of cash and pills.

I guess this is my cue.

Drawing on my magic, I cut off the circulation to the runner’s legs. The effect is immediate. He drops to the hard ground with a little grunt and the duffel drops, spilling merchandise and cash everywhere.

“What the fuck?” he spits.

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