There’s a taste of metal in my mouth — not blood, just adrenaline — as Jofferey’s words hang in the air like a gauntlet thrown.
“There’s no escape for you now, Kael,” he says, every syllable coated in triumph. “You’re surrounded. I hope you didn’t think I’d let you walk away after humiliating me last time.”
I breathe out slow, deliberate. My shoulders roll, loosening the tension I don’t have the luxury of wasting. I study the men arrayed around me like a man doing a quick inventory — positions, stance, the little tells of someone who’s been paid to kill for a living. Then I shift my gaze back to Jofferey and, finally, to the four in black standing closest, the ones Jofferey brags about.
“So, this is the infamous Dominion Syndicate?” I ask, cracking my knuckles more from habit than nerve
