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His eyes widen. Shame and fear flash across his face. But he nods, jaw clenching with determination.
Daniel’s gaze sweeps the room with a sharp intelligence. Despite his battered appearance and the tremors of withdrawal, there’s a coiled energy about him. This man is used to being in control, even when he’s not.
I study him, trying to get a read. Trust fund kid, for sure, but there’s more to him. He could’ve been the quarterback at some elite prep school, with those broad shoulders and square jaw. But there’s a calculation in his gaze that screams ‘mathlete’ or maybe ‘debate team captain.’ Either way, he’s got resources between his ears—and that might be more useful than muscle right now.
“How many guards?” His voice remains steady despite the beads of perspiration on his forehead.
I shake my head. “Not now. They’re watching.”
As if on cue, Twitch’s voice cuts through the relative quiet. “Well, well. Looks like our VIP’s finally decided to grace us with his consciousness.” Twitch saunters over, switchblade glinting. “Having a nice chat with the riffraff, are we?”
Daniel’s expression hardens, chin lifting in defiance. There’s no trace of the shakes now—just hard, cold focus. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what this is all about?”
Twitch’s grin is all teeth and malice. “Now, where’s the fun in that?” He turns to me, eyes glittering with cruel amusement. “How about a game, street rat? You like games, don’t you?”
My stomach drops. “Not really.”
I glance at Daniel, catching his eye. There’s a spark there, a hint of strategy forming. Maybe, just maybe, we’ve got an ally after all. If we can keep him from falling apart when the worst of the withdrawal hits.
Twitch ignores me, producing a coin from his pocket. “Heads or tails. Get it right, you eat today. Get it wrong…” The blade dances between his fingers.
“Leave her alone,” Daniel growls, struggling against his bonds.
Twitch’s grin widens. “Ooh, protective already? How sweet.” He flicks the coin high into the air. “Call it, bitch.”
Time slows. The coin spins, flashing in the harsh light. I open my mouth, but before I can speak?—
“That’s enough.” Soft Eyes’ quiet voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
Twitch whirls, eyes narrowing. “The fuck did you say?”
Soft Eyes stands straighter, though I catch the slight tremor in his hands. “Boss said no damage. They need to be in good condition for the auction.”
Twitch’s face contorts with rage. He takes a menacing step toward Soft Eyes, fists clenching. “You trying to grow a spine, you spineless fuck?”
Soft Eyes flinches but stands his ground. “Just following orders. You got a problem with that, you take it up with the boss.”
The tension crackles, electric. Then Twitch explodes into motion, swinging at Soft Eyes. Soft Eyes ducks, surprisingly agile, and counters with a sharp jab to Twitch’s solar plexus.
They collide in a tangle of limbs, grunting and cursing. Twitch fights dirty, all elbows and knees. But Soft Eyes has technique, deflecting blows and using Twitch’s momentum against him.
I press against the fence, eyes darting between the brawling guards. Cataloging. Assessing.
Twitch: raw aggression, no restraint. Dangerous in his unpredictability.
Soft Eyes: trained, disciplined. The calm exterior hides a coiled spring of violence.
Both: distracted.
My gaze locks with Daniel’s. His eyes flick toward the distracted guards, then back to me. A silent question.
I shake my head minutely. ‘Not yet. Too risky.’
A meaty thud draws my attention back to the fight. Soft Eyes has Twitch in a chokehold, face reddening as he struggles for air.
But Twitch isn’t done. His hand scrabbles at his belt, fingers closing around the handle of his knife.
“Is there a problem here?” Bruiser’s bulk fills the doorway, eyes glittering with barely contained violence. His booming voice echoes through the warehouse. “What the fuck is going on here?”