Chapter 592
Chapter 592:
“Enough,” Skye said. She pulled away from Alistair and stepped into the circle.
Felix moved instantly, signaling the Shadow Guards to close in, but Alistair held up a hand to pause them. He stepped up beside Skye.
The thug froze, his boot hovering. He looked at Skye, licking his lips. “Well, well. Look what wandered out of the rich district p>
He stepped toward her, ignoring the old man. “You want his tax, sweetheart? Or maybe you can pay in trade p>
He reached for her face.
Before his fingers could graze her skin, a hand shot out from the side. It moved so fast it was a blur.
Alistair gripped the thug’s wrist.
“Touch her,” Alistair said, his voice dropping to a subterranean rumble, “and you lose the hand p>
The thug laughed. “Do you know who I am? I’m with the Golden Dra p>
SNAP.
Alistair twisted. The sound of the radius bone snapping was loud enough to silence the market. The thug screamed, dropping to his knees.
His two friends pulled knives. They lunged.
Alistair didn’t need to move. Felix and a Shadow Guard stepped out from the crowd. In two fluid motions, the attackers were disarmed and face-down in the mud, Felix’s boot pressing the air out of one’s lungs.
The police finally moved. They threw down their cigarettes and marched over, hands on their holsters.
“You’re in big trouble, gringo,” the older cop barked. “Assaulting citizens p>
Alistair straightened his shirt. He reached into his pocket. The cops tensed, expecting a gun.
He pulled out a black card. It wasn’t a credit card. It was a matte black metal card with the Thorne family crest embossed in gold. He held it up.
The cop’s eyes widened. The color drained from his face. In Port Valor, that crest meant one thing: The Owner.
𝖱𝘦𝗮𝘥e𝗿 c𝘰𝘮muոi𝗍у оn be.𝖼𝗈𝘮
“Thorne…” the cop stammered. “Mr. Thorne… we didn’t know p>
“Take this trash away,” Alistair said, gesturing to the groaning gang members. “And if I see you ignoring a crime again, you’ll be patrolling the sewers p>
“Yes, sir! Immediately, sir!” The cops grabbed the thugs, dragging them away with newfound zeal.
Skye knelt down and helped the old man gather his coins. He looked at her with terrified eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “But you shouldn’t have done that. The Golden Dragon… they own the night p>
“Who runs the Golden Dragon?” Skye asked.
“The new boss,” the old man said, looking around fearfully. “The one who controls the machines. But the real power… it’s the man with the cane. The one who came yesterday p>
Lucian.
Skye stood up. She looked at Alistair. “We found the hive p>
“The Golden Dragon Casino,” Alistair said, staring at the neon sign in the distance that was just starting to flicker on against the dusk. “Tonight, we go gambling p>
The Golden Dragon Casino was a monument to excess. Gold leaf covered the pillars, red velvet draped the walls, and crystal chandeliers the size of small cars hung from the ceiling. It was tacky, loud, and smelled of desperation masked by expensive cologne.