Page 15 of The Games of Madmen

It’s sour and unoriginal. A bit like Nikita.

I choke the mouthful down and then glower at the colorful display in the glass. Looks pretty but tastes like shit. “You must be making it wrong,” I bite out, watching her mouth form a perfect O shaped hole for me to fill later. She may suck at coming up with new drink menu items, but then again, sucking is what she’s truly good at. “Try again, Nik.”

In the meantime, I have some business to deal with.

Mika, our head of security, makes his appearance right on time, dragging with him a blonde woman and her ingrate lover, who thought our establishment is run by fools.

People always underestimate us.

My eyes cut to my brother creeping from the shadows like a force of nature summoned by the newcomers.

He has rules that were broken and need to be put right.

Anyone who doesn’t know him might think he just came from the runway. His black button-down shirt is tailored to fit his striking form like a second skin, showing off his well-defined body beneath, with his sleeves rolled up just below the elbows which inadvertently shows off his veiny forearms. Tight white jeans, ripped in all the right places, paired with black lace up leather boots complete his attire. Standing well over six feet, he’s formidable and fucking beautiful.

His eyes flare like blue fire with anticipation. There was a time he would always wear black contact lenses, making him look more demon than man, but I fucking love those natural, electric blue eyes of his. It’s not often we have to dirty our hands in our own clubs, but every now and then, it’s good for the soul to let off some steam. It also doesn’t hurt to leave a recent memory in the minds of anyone who doubts who we are, especially since we’re planning a trip away and all.

People mistake beautiful people for kind, forgiving members of our society. They assume they won’t be ruthless, death handlers. Why would they be when they can have anything and anyone deal with that shit for them?

It’s what makes Zahkar so lethal. You just don’t expect him to find such pleasure in handing out punishment to those who wrong us.

Svolach. Scum.

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Angelo, aka The Shark, grunts, darting his eyes between the hand Mika has on his shoulder and the gun digging into his ribs by one of Mika’s team.

Z circles him, mocking his fighter name, “The Shark.”He’s not the predator in this room, he’s the prey. And my brother is ravenous for blood.

“Good fight tonight,” I croon.

Angelo flinches slightly. I don’t miss it. Neither does my twin.

“I g-got lucky,” Angelo stammers out, his lie catching on his tongue.

Lucky, my ass.

Coming up behind him, Z swiftly kicks out the back of his leg, causing him to crash to his knees before me.

“Fuck!” he cries out, reaching for his now-injured leg.

His girlfriend gasps and tries to break free of the security guard holding her.

Feisty.

The woman’s blonde locks fall over her face, and the fight in her brings a painful pang of memories of a woman long lost to me—to us. Now,shehad the same spunk.

“I warned you,” the woman murmurs in defeat to her now sweating lover.

“Shut up, Brenda,” he growls, shooting her a scathing glare.

I smirk at him, wagging my finger. “Hmmm. That’s no way to speak to the woman who you coerced into putting on your big bet for you.”

He freezes, his eyes wide with terror.

“Here,” I say to the woman,Brenda, thrusting my glass at her. “Taste this and tell me if it’s something you’d order in a club like this.”

Her brown eyes widen at first and then narrow with confusion. “W-What?”

Did I stutter?