Page 79 of The Dragon 2

Without a word, Hiro lifted two fingers and scratched beneath his jaw—quick, subtle, but the Claws saw it.

They peeled off, slipping between rows and shadows and falling into an invisible arc around us.

No panic.

No retreat.

Just pressure applied to the killers amongst us.

The chandelier above us flickered and the music bled into something darker.

Reo sighed. “The Butcher still hasn’t shown his face yet and already we’ve played two of his games.”

Hiro’s face went still. "We shouldn't trust the Butcher."

I let the words land like silk-draped knives.

Hiro continued, "He and our father got alongtoo well. Don’t forget, it was the Fox who helped him disappear after he got out of jail. They have history."

I sighed. "Everyone has a past, Hiro. We’re not asking for the Butcher’s hand in marriage. Just munitions."

"You think he won’t care what we use them for?"

I looked toward the gold-curved balconies, where shadows shifted telling me there were even more men than Hiro had guessed. "We won’t tell the Butcher what we’re using them for.”

Hiro’s voice dropped lower. "That’s a mistake. If the Butcher finds out the weapons were used to kill the man who once saved him, he might see it as betrayal."

“We’ve already considered this.” Reo nodded. "This may end up being a Faustian pact."

Hiro blinked. "A what?"

Up further ahead, the man neared the side of the auditorium, where a corridor discreetly veered into a velvet-lined passage.

We continued.

Reo explained, "A Faustian pact. It’s from this old German legend. A man named Faust traded his soul to the devil for knowledge and power. The devil gave him twenty-four years of indulgence, magic, and everything the man ever wanted."

"So what happened at the end?" Hiro asked.

"The man paid with everything. His soul. His freedom. His future. The power he got was just a beautiful leash."

The man turned the corner.

Seconds later, we did too.

A guarded door waited in front of us.

Two Corsican soldiers stood before it—suited, armed, unblinking. Their shoulders broad beneath sleek blue coats. One held a gold tablet. The other had a scar across his eye that looked like it had been carved by a wine bottle.

They opened the heavy doors to a big room.

Inside, a private elevator waited.

Marble floor.

Bronze walls.

Soft golden lighting.