Page 3 of Not a Pawn (Tales of the Dreggageggon #2)

Words That Kill

Sebastian

Adrenaline is raging through my veins, not just due to the fight but also because our fated mate is somewhere in this marble and brick monstrosity. It takes all my willpower to keep my dragon under control. The moment I let him free all hell will break loose.

I love my beast, but he is like a bull in a China shop and this situation, which was previously a decimation, has become mired with the need for finesse. I can’t—I won’t—let anything happen to the mate we have been searching for all these years. Even before we knew a fated mate could be out there waiting for us to find her, we searched. A ridiculous sense of hope pushing us to find something that may not even exist.

Now she is close enough to smell and I won’t risk losing her. The thought of these men looking at her, let alone touching or harming her, is enough to have my blood boiling, literally. But I still have a tenuous grasp on my rage and my animal. For now.

The voice of a female carries down the white-tiled hallways and I hasten my steps, knowing I need to reach her before any more harm can come to her. My mind is reeling, filled with disgusting thoughts. Have they bruised her skin? Seen her naked? Violated her? Each thought only spurs me on, no longer worried about who sees me.

I reach the set of oak double doors at the same time as my twin, both of us vibrating with held-back rage. Neither of us hesitates to shove the doors wide open, eager to put an end to this insanity.

The scene before us chills me to the bone. Our beautiful mate, with her olive-toned skin and loose curls, is on her knees before Marco Pezzo, as if he is some kind of royalty.

No one notices us as they are all transfixed on their boss and the conversation he is having.

“Belonging to me,” he says, calmly. “All of this can be avoided. You can have a luxurious life, and I will shower you with gifts. All you have to do is accept my proposal.”

“And if I don’t?” our brave little mate retorts with steel in her spine and her voice.

“Then, I will take what I want from you before passing you off to my men. You will beg for a death that will never.”

Those are the words that snap the last of my restraint. My dragon pushes forth with a rush of anger and violence. In the blink of an eye a fireball flies past our mate’s head to slam into the face of a man I should have killed years ago. Shouts and gunfire erupt all around us, a cacophony of chaos that is like music to the ears of my beast.

What does draw our attention is the fact that our little mate hasn’t moved from her spot. She stares in fascination as Marco Pezzo burns before her eyes.

“Focus, brother,” Julian demands through our mind link.

Reality crashes down on me. Our mate is in danger, bullets flying around her head. We need to end this before anything can happen to her.

Julian approaches her in his human form while I take out as many as I can with my fiery breath, but something must have alerted him. A split-second later he falls upon her in his dragon form as bullets assault him from all sides, his scaled wings all that keep them both alive.

The roar of outrage that erupts from me is enough to shake the foundations of this house. A building I will level to the fucking ground before this night is through. Fire spreads between the men, furniture, and drapes, running rampant and decimating anything in its path. The gunfire diminishes before halting completely.

“We need to get her home,” Julian says, panic evident in every word. “She passed out.”

The need to ensure our mate is unharmed and healthy, rides both us and our dragons. Neither of us makes sure all the men are in fact dead. Neither of us considers the repercussions of our actions.

Our only focus is our mate.

****

What New Happy Hell Is This?

Harlow

My head pounds like someone is trying, with force, to drive a railway spike into the depths of my cerebral cortex. Opening my eyes only hurts more, the light burning my retinas.

Where am I? Fear courses through me as the memories come flooding back. Marco Pezzo and his vile men. The closet. His disgusting proposal and then the men who turned everything to ash.

A dragon protected me. Why? I must be losing my mind, the stress of the entire situation simply too much to bear. My fragile grasp on reality must have finally snapped. Elites, Alphas, and their dragons have no use for people like me and my father except to manipulate us for their own self-centred purposes.

I have seen people die right in front of Elites who could have saved them, but their selfishness kept them from doing the right thing. Why would I find protection? I’m not special. Nothing that happened in the past twenty-four hours makes a damn lick of sense.

Forcing my eyes open, I take a moment to allow the pounding to recede before pushing myself up into a sitting position. Scanning my surroundings I decide I must still be asleep, and this can’t be anything more than a dream.

I have never seen such opulence. The bed I am lying on is a massive four poster with dark wooden posts, the bedding is soft and luxurious. The room is larger than the apartment I shared with my father for most of my life.

I am still staring when the door on the far end swings open. My breath seizes in my lungs as I stare once more into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. The man with his dark hair in a messy man-bun on top of his head scans his gaze across my face before whistling.

Moments later another man I assume to be his identical twin, and my father step into the room. Tears gather as I stare at the man I thought was dead.

“You’re alive,” I croak, not looking away from him, fearing he may disappear.

“Harlow.” His voice breaks as he rushes to my side.

My father falls to his knees beside my bed, grasping my hand tightly as he sobs, murmuring intelligible words. I allow him this moment, knowing he needs to let it out before we can speak.

“Who are you?” I ask the men warily.

“Harlow!” my father admonishes. “These men saved your life even after I tried to kill them. Show some respect to Sebastian and Julian”

I glare at my father before ripping my hand from his. “If you had kept your promises none of us would be in this situation. This is all”—I twirl my finger in the air to encompass everything—“your fault.”

My father pales, my angry words hitting their mark.

“You are right,” he says with a nod. “But I have found a solution to all our problems.”

He looks so hopeful that I want to believe his words. But I know better, my father’s plans rarely work out for either of us.

“What have you done?” I hiss.

“Your father has agreed to go into a rehabilitation program for his gambling addiction,” one of the men from the door cuts in. “He will be there for thirty days. In that time, you will stay with us. We need a personal assistant.”

“Excuse me?” I tilt my head to the side, my eyebrows raised high on my forehead.

“If your father returns having completed his course, we will settle his outstanding debt,” the other twin says. “If he wishes at that time, we will also provide him with a job.”

“And if he fails?” I ask hesitantly.

“Then he will be banished from Bleakstone, and you will belong to us.”

“What?” I yell, jumping from the bed to stomp toward them. “I’m not a goat you can trade. I deserve to have a choice in the matter.”

“You do,” says the man with the blue eyes. “You are not a prisoner, and you are free to leave whenever you want. But if you do, your father’s debt will remain, plus the charges he incurred when we saved your life.”

“And there may still be some of Pezzo’s men out there looking for both of you,” his brother adds.

I glare at them before turning my ire toward my father.

“If you fuck this up, I will hand you over to whichever Elite-Alpha-asshole-mafia madman you owe money to, with a smile.”