7. Chapter seven #2
“Well, well,” he says, voice oily smooth. “Kieran fucking Freyr. Fancy seeing you here.”
My hand tightens on the dagger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
He laughs, spreading his arms like we’re long lost acquaintances. “Is that a way to greet an old friend?”
The other bronze-tagged idiots rise too, scraping their chairs back, and I flick my gaze to the bar. The noise has died. Everyone’s gone silent. The so-called security hesitates, starts inching closer… but they’re no match for this crew.
This Touched crew. The kind that embraces it . Who see their condition as a gift, an excuse to lean into the strength, the speed, the hunger. The power . They’re the ones that fuck the Red Rain out, basking in it.
“You’re no friend of mine,” I hiss, letting the dagger slide lower, blade now balanced between my fingers, itching to throw it at him, to stab him like I did before.
He made it a chase after that first encounter, followed me around whenever I left our rooms, making snide comments about how he fucked my mother and how I’d be next. His voice was always right there behind me, dripping venom, laughing when I flinched.
One night he cornered me. Pinned me to the wall, tore my pants. That stinking breath hot against my cheek, filthy fingers already tugging at my underwear. For a split second I thought that was it, that it was over, that I’d break the same way my mother did.
But I didn’t.
My hand found the knife he had at his hip, and I shoved it into his side, deep enough to make him howl, enough to slip away. I ran until my lungs burned, shaking so hard I thought my ribs would crack. The shame, the fear, it clung like a second skin.
That was right after my mother had died. I could’ve stayed in that shithole, faded into the same filth that ate her alive… but that was my final cue to leave.
I didn’t want her life to be my life.
Her warning always rang in my head: Stay safe, Kieran. Live. I wanted to honor that, the last real piece of her I had left, and claw my way to something better. Somewhere else I could actually live.
“I wondered where you went after you poked me with your little blade and disappeared,” he says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.
“Had to beat it out of that old neighbor of yours. Poor bitch tried to keep your secret, but you made the mistake of telling her where you were headed. Ibitha. Hiding this little piece of paradise all to yourself, weren’t you? ”
I don’t reply, heart hammering in my throat. My fingers tighten around the blade instead, and I shift my stance, angling my body just so.
My gaze flicks over the five men spread around him. Not all as big as he is, but by the way they stand, shoulders loose and ready, I know what they are. Not honorable men. Predators. There are too few men left in this world with any kind of honor. And none of them were sitting at that table.
When he opens his mouth again, some new insult cocked and ready, he pauses. Frowns.
Something shifts in the room. Soft whispers, like a collective gasp dragged out of every throat at once. Eyes dart to the entrance, wide and wary. The air changes… It’s thick, heavy, expectant.
Mine don’t move. They stay locked on my tormentor, my mother’s tormentor, every nerve in my body strung so tight it hurts.
But I know what it is— who it is—when that low, dangerous chuckle rolls through the silence of the bar.
My eyes close for half a second, relief whooshing out of me, my whole body loosening despite the dagger still burning hot in my grip.
Max .
He’s here. He’s fucking here.
I swear he makes the room fucking vibrate.
I don’t dare to look at him, even though every inch of me is screaming to. Dying to. To see his face, his stance, the way the whole room bends around him.
To make sure he’s okay… Still in one piece.
When I catch him in my peripheral, closing in, when that brutal, unshakable aura engulfs me, when the sharp tang of Ashleaf smoke and leather and something feral wraps around me… I nearly fucking whimper. He’s fine.
Sami and Tass are with him, but stay back, both finding a spot at the bar to lean on, to watch the show that’s about to unfold.
“Funny. I thought this was a bar. Since when do they let pigs order pints?” Max drawls, voice low and sharp enough to slice through the tension.
He doesn’t just walk; he prowls. Every step deliberate, shoulders loose but coiled, like a predator who knows he doesn’t need to rush. When he stops in front of me, the whole bar leans away without even realizing it, chairs scraping back, whispers dying on tongues.
His presence fills the room the way smoke does, crawling into every corner, stinging the eyes, stealing the godsdamned air.
I want to say I don’t need him to come to my rescue. That I can handle this. That I don’t need a fucking knight, especially not one that bathes himself in blood every chance he gets. But the truth sits heavy in my gut: I’m outnumbered.
And so is he.
The brute chuckles, mean and sharp, ignoring Max. “You got yourself a replacement for your mother, Kieran? Found a new owner to keep you fed?”
Max doesn’t blink. Just cocks his head, slow and deliberate. That’s when I know… They should fucking run.
It hits me; they have no clue who he is. That entire group is new here. Every single person in this city, on this island, knows better than to fuck with Max. Because if you do, he won’t just fuck you right back. He’ll annihilate you.
The brute leans forward, smirking. “Whatcha gonna do, tough guy? Gonna play hero for the teeny-tiny eensie-weensie brat? Or are you just here to swing your dick around?”
Max doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Not an inch. He just crosses his arms, calm as sin. “Try me. I dare you.”
That’s all he says. All he needs to say.
The men don’t laugh this time. Knuckles crack. A sword slides free with a flash of steel, another brute rolling his shoulders like he’s warming up for a fight. The air goes tight, suffocating, the kind that makes you brace for blood.
Then both of Max’s arms lift, slow and deliberate, and the hiss of steel sings as he draws the blades from across his back. He twirls them in a quick circle once, wicked things gleaming under the bar lamps. The sound alone has my skin prickling, has me shivering like a goddamn leaf.
And when his stance settles—feet braced, head tilted, blades ready—it’s like watching the storm itself curl into human shape.
Before it can explode, before he can explode, Tass shoves her way in between, palms up like she’s defusing a bomb. “Alright, alright, boys,” she says with that shit-eating grin of hers. “Put the dicks away before someone loses theirs.”
A ripple of uneasy laughter skitters through the bar, more nervous than amused. Sami’s right behind her, not smiling. His dark eyes narrow on the group, frown deep. “She’s right,” he mutters to the group, voice low but carrying. “You don’t want this fight. Trust me.”
For a second, I think it’ll tip anyway. That blood will spray across the counter before anyone can stop it.
Max’s shoulders are coiled, his grip white-knuckled on the hilts.
I can’t see his face from here, but I know it well enough by now.
If they'll push him, it’d be the last thing they’d ever see.
But then the air shifts again. Another silence.
Joyeus.
She sweeps into the bar like she owns it. Because she does. Her blonde hair high on her head, cloak trailing, a waft of perfume clinging to her.
“What’s happening here?” Her sharp voice rings through the bar. “Don’t you all have work to do?”
Just like that, the tension breaks. Chatter seeps back in as the employees scatter, the silence dissolving like nothing happened. Joyeus glides to the brutes, mutters something low, and they straighten. Obedient. One by one, they make for the door.
All but him. The dirty bastard. He takes a half step closer, throws one last look at me, lips curling in a way that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. My stomach knots, and I hate myself for the way I flinch.
Max doesn’t miss it. He twirls Whisper in his hand once, the blade flashing in the dim light. That’s all it takes. The guy’s smirk falters, seems like part of his infected brain had a smart thought, and then he’s gone, shoved out with the rest.
“Still the same animal,” Joyeus purrs when they’re gone, her eyes narrowing on Max. “All violence. No discipline.”
“Better an animal than a council whore sucking this city dry.”
Tass mutters: “Oh fuck, not again,” as a ripple of gasps cuts through the bar again.
Joyeus tilts her head, unruffled, her smile sharpening. “Careful now, little wolf. Bite the wrong hand and you’ll find yourself neutered.”
Max jerks his chin toward the door. “Those bastards you just coddled? They’re the ones who ought to be neutered. To keep your staff safe. This island. ”
Her eyes narrow. “They’re here on my invite. You better leave them alone.”
Off to the side, Sami mutters low, “Funny. Never saw them at the registration office.”
“Because they’re my guests.”
“Then how the hell do they have tags?” Tass shoots back, brows lifted.
My pulse kicks at my throat. I want to know too.
But Joyeus glances my way, eyes glittering, and for a heartbeat I swear she knows when she lowers her voice only for us to hear.
“I know someone’s been sniffing around where they shouldn’t.
And whoever it is would do well to stop, before I stop them myself. ”
Max slides his swords back into place with a threatening clink. “Careful now, Joyeus,” he echoes her earlier remark. “All that perfume can’t cover the stink of corruption forever.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you forget who you’re talking to. And you,” her gaze cuts to me again, “get back to fucking work.”
Max just turns his back on her like she’s nothing, like she isn’t even worth sharing the same air as him. And that dismissal cuts deeper than any insult would