Page 43 of Stroke of Shadows
Wyatt played with one of the snooker cues on the wall, pulling it from the rack. “Where’s the money, Miles?” He swung the cue a few times before hooking it over his shoulders. “You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Miles flinched, spitting blood on the floor before he responded. “She’s coming. She always comes, I promise.”
Wyatt smiled with his teeth, leaning forward. “You better not be lying. You won’t like what I do to liars.”
Sythe relaxed his muscles, his smile enough to make even the hardest of men uneasy. He’d already sensed a familiar presence, prepared himself before the sight of his brother appeared through the doors.
The redhead’s skin was flushed an angry red, the colour bringing out the delicate freckles along the bridge of her nose.
“Well, hot damn. Looks like you really do have a sister, and she came with her own bodyguard. Cute.” Sythe’s eyes flicked over to Titus, his brother standing at the woman’s back with a blank expression. “You bring Angel his money, darling?” He forced himself to return his attention to the woman, an ache developing in his chest at his brother’s presence.
What the fuck was Titus doing here?
A low whistle from Wyatt. “If I’d known she was this hot, we would have broken your face earlier, Miles. You know how I have a thing for redheads.”
The redhead in question clenched her jaw, Titus stiffening behind her. “I would like to speak to my brother. Alone,” she added, widening her stance.
“No can do, darling,” Sythe said, studying the way she aggressively held herself. “You see, Miles here owes Angel a ton of fucking money, and I can’t risk him making a run for it.”
Her tone was sharp, which only made Sythe want to push more. “You won’t see a penny if I don’t speak to him alone.”
Wyatt chuckled, swinging the cue over his shoulder before throwing it onto the snooker table, knocking the balls together with a loud crack. “What a shame. Looks like I’ll just take it from his flesh instead.”
A whimper. “Please, just give them what you have,” Miles begged, finally turning to look at her over his shoulder. His left eye had swollen shut around twenty minutes ago, while the right side of his face had a beautiful pattern of bruises. Sythe knew his nose was broken, having felt it beneath his fist.
The redhead paled at the sight of her brother, and yet Sythe felt not a single drop of guilt.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice as rough as gravel.
“He thought he could borrow from Angel without paying him back,” Wyatt replied instead. “With interest, of course.”
“Fucking loan sharks, Miles?” The woman seemed to barely control her anger, her fingers agitated as she shoved strands of loose hair behind her ear. “How many times are we going to do this?”
Sythe cocked his head, wondering if he should just kill the prick, anyway. A man who screwed over his family and beat defenceless women doesn’t deserve breath in their lungs.
“Just fucking pay them!” Miles growled, climbing to his feet. He favoured his left leg, leaning to the side. Probably because Wyatt had kicked it. “You fucking owe me, so pay them.”
“I owe you nothing!” Her voice rose to a scream. “When will it be enough, Miles? When you’ve killed me? Will you forgive me then?”
“Fuck you, Rae,” he said, spitting more blood on the floor. “Just pay them.”
Ah, redhead has a name, Sythe thought. He had to force himself to watch the siblings rather than seeking out his brother. He was struggling with the distance, his beast pushing to reach out to the familiar energy.
But he was doing this for Titus. For all his brothers, and now their mates. The distant hurt, but it was worth every agonising second if he could avenge him.
Rae’s slightly enraged smile tightened. “How much?”
Miles swallowed, looking off to the side. “Fifty thousand,” he said, voice a barely audible grumble.
“Pounds?”
“Ravyns,” Sythe added, his smile malicious as he played his expected role. “We can’t have it traced now, can we?”
Something dark passed across Rae’s face. “And you think I have that?”
Wyatt sniggered, coming around to Sythe’s side. “There are other ways to pay, beautiful. You’ll look real pretty on your knees.”
Tension strained the air, and Sythe’s readied himself to intervene if Titus turned violent. He’d never seen his brother react so intensely, his strict composure morphing into pure rage. Titus was the calm Guardian, not the one who lost his temper.