10. Gracie #2
“Turns out I was right, especially when it came to your parents.”
The blow landed as intended, but my mate didn’t let him see that.
“You brought me down there because it was useful,” Basir argued. “Because my parents owed you a debt. It wasn’t some great service or noble act.”
“Same thing, in this city.” Sable took one slow step forward. “You left owing a debt, boy. That doesn’t disappear because you found yourself better company.”
“I was ten years old.” Basir’s voice didn’t change, but I could feel his growing rage. “Whatever debt you think existed died with my parents.”
Sable looked at him for a long moment before offering a smile of rotted teeth. “Well, now it’s time to make up for that—take them!”
Sable’s men broke toward us in a rush.
Thornar’s arm wrapped around my waist as he tugged me behind him in an attempt to protect me from the chaos.
I could see flashes of Basir and Ravik moving, the clash of bodies and gunfire ringing in my ears.
For a few fateful seconds, the warehouse floor tipped toward me, Thornar’s strength the only thing that grounded me.
“There are too many—”
Ravik’s voice broke off as a secondary entrance on the east wall exploded open.
I peeked around Thornar as bodies poured in, moving fast and low in a coordinated effort, hitting the Cinder Ring’s remaining men with perfectly aimed shots. Bodies collapsed until it was just Sable left.
“This isn’t even a small percent of my people!” Sable called out. “Even if you kill me, there are plenty of others. Your rebellion can’t wash us out.”
The rebellion. He thought we were the rebellion?
I stood between my mates, realizing that while Sable looked unbothered, he was surrounded by slaughter. At least twenty corpses lay on the ground including one of our fallen soldiers, leaving us in silence and facing a potential—and far more dangerous—unknown.
The new arrivals said nothing, just stood there with guns poised, waiting for direction. Unlike the Cinder Ring, they weren’t dressed in black or military uniforms. They wore normal everyday clothes that had seen better days.
Behind us, the footsteps of heavy boots sounded and Ravik immediately tucked me against him, my mates positioning themselves around me protectively.
It was only one man, but he carried a clear signature of magic I’d come to recognize: dragon.
“Bram Kane.” Ravik’s voice changed from defensive to intrigued.
Kane. My eyes widened—this was Waylon and Bishu’s son. But I’d thought he hadn’t been part of the rebellion?
“Ravik.” His nod was polite as he looked around the space. “Figured you could use the help once I saw the direction you were taking.”
“Interesting,” Thornar murmured.
“Guns down and grab Sable.” Bram’s orders were calm, and the plain-clothes team reacted immediately. Sable didn’t make it two steps before they caught him. He let out a roar of frustration as his arms were wrenched behind him, his expression finally cracking and his face turning a furious purple.
“Thank you for that,” Basir said to Bram before turning to Sable. “I would like to have a word with him, if possible.”
“That’ll have to wait until we’re back at the compound.” Bram’s tone was pointed as he added, “And you’re not the only one who wants a word with him. Unfortunately, we need him alive for now as leverage—so make sure it stays just that. A word.”
Basir made a low noise of frustration, but nothing past that.
Then Sable started shouting. “The bitch couldn’t even show up herself? She has her lap dog doing it?”
Bram stilled, his gaze going dark as he turned his attention from us. “What did you say?”
“I said the bitch couldn’t even show up—”
Bram’s gun went off, the shot landing in Sable’s left thigh. His legs buckled as he fell to the ground, but Bram’s expression remained unchanged. “Grab him. She’s going to want to see him.”
Looking at my mates, I wasn’t the only one who seemed surprised. I didn’t say anything, letting Ravik lead as he continued the conversation with Bram. “I assume you know what’s going on outside of these walls?”
“Yes.” Bram nodded. “Let’s get back to headquarters. I know you were looking for us anyway.”
Sable didn’t go quietly. He was still snarling threats as two of the rebellion’s people hauled him upright by the arms, his face white with pain and fury.
Basir hadn’t moved through any of it—he stood exactly where he’d been when Sable’s men first broke, watching without a flicker of reaction.
Sable spat in passing, and my mate put a hand up to stop his progress.
He leaned down and spoke in a soft tone only we could hear. “I don’t owe you anything, Sable, and I will ensure that you return everything I paid you. Tenfold.”
Sable didn’t need to ask what currency that debt would be paid in. His expression went green and sickly as he was dragged toward the door.
I watched Basir turn away from the man who had built a cage out of a child’s grief, and I felt the restlessness in my chest—which had been sitting there since we’d surfaced from the sewers—finally start to ease.
“He’s one of several leaders,” Bram said, cutting through the moment with the efficiency of someone who’d been running an operation long enough to know we were short on time. “The only one we’ve managed to get our hands on. The others are embedded deeper—we haven’t surfaced them yet. He got sloppy.
“But Sable knows the full supply chain to Ivan. Every route, every contact, every delivery. That’s why he stays alive. For now.”
Ravik nodded slowly. “We’d only meant to gauge their positioning. It escalated further than we planned, so thank you for stepping in.”
Bram looked briefly caught off guard by that, then nodded. His gaze moved to Sable. “The Cinder Ring has grown larger than anyone expected. But today, and with the help of everyone outside the city, we’ll get the first real crack in it.”
I had so many questions, and I knew my mates did too, but Bram didn’t give us a moment to ask them before he swept out of the warehouse. As we followed, I got the distinct impression we were being watched.
Sable was shouting nonsense and drawing attention, but none of his people outside made a move to help him—even the ones I could see watching from distant rooftops. It made me wonder how much resistance we’d actually face when the attack came.
The soldiers of the territory were one thing—but what those who were trapped in a system they’d been forced into?
Basir hadn’t had a choice. How many others hadn’t either?