A group of six men stood in the center of the room, their coats dripping wet.

At the center of the group was Marcus, a gray-haired man in a tailored wool coat.

He was holding a glass of Lucian’s expensive scotch.

“You should have stayed in the restaurant, Lucian,” Marcus said, his voice echoing in the hall. “It would have been cleaner.”

“My sister’s death,” Lucian said, his voice dropping an octave. “Was that your work too?”

Marcus took a slow sip of his drink and smiled.

“Elena was too smart for her own good,” Marcus said. “She found the Chicago ledgers.”

Lucian’s knuckles turned white where he held his gun.

“You killed a child,” Lucian said.

“I secured our future,” Marcus replied. “The Draven syndicate was rotting from the inside.”

“You are the rot, Marcus,” I said, stepping out from behind Lucian.

The men with Marcus raised their weapons, but Marcus waved them down, his eyes on me.

“The waitress,” Marcus sneered. “The one who thinks she can tame beasts.”

“I don’t tame them,” I said. “I just know who they want to bite.”