“You didn’t want the Circle’s eyes on you,” I put in.
Gabriel slid his gaze to me. “Like I said, I protect my own.”
“Your place or not, Keene, you are a son of a bitch.” Ethan rose, chair scraping across the floor.
I heard similar movements from the bar, wished I’d brought my sword inside. I hadn’t expected things to turn in this particular direction.
“That’s rich coming from you, Sullivan. Every war creates victims. You know it as well as I do. We stayed here, in Chicago, instead of going back to Aurora. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let a human piece of shit like Adrien Reed use my people against each other.”
I could see the war in Ethan’s eyes—his desire to slap Gabriel back for putting us in danger, for holding back crucial information, matched against his need to preserve whatever alliance remained between Cadogan and the NAC.
“We are allies,” Ethan said, the words slashing the air like the sharpened blade of a katana. “Or so I was led to believe.”
“My brother is dead,” Gabriel gritted out, rising to stand over the table, his fingers still splayed across it. “Which proves this asshole is as dangerous as I imagined him to be. And he was killed by a vampire. You want contrition? Think again.”
“What I want is to be able to trust someone in this goddamn town. What I want is for my vampires to have some peace and goddamn quiet. What I want is to not be stabbed in the goddamn back every time I turn around.” Ethan reached out and, with a seemingly effortless flick of his hand, tossed a chair across the room.
The door shoved open, and a very large man filled the doorway. A shifter, with thick silver hair and a scar across his left cheek. He ignored me and Ethan, looked immediately to Gabriel—to his Apex.
Gabriel’s gaze was on Ethan, and it didn’t waver.
For a full minute, they stared at each other.
“Stop! You are stopping!” The words punched through the silence, followed by a rush of Ukrainian as Berna squeezed beneath the tree-trunk arm the shifter had stretched across the doorway.
She had a white bar towel in the hand she used to point at Ethan, then Gabriel. “No fighting here. No fighting. Is rule.”
Gabriel’s gaze snapped to her. Obviously angry, he muttered something low in Ukrainian. I hadn’t heard him speak it before, and it sounded vaguely menacing in his growly and gravelly voice.
If Berna was intimidated, she hid it well. She pitched her head to the left and right, made a spitting sound that I was pretty sure was an insult. And then she leveled that gaze at Ethan.
“You make trouble in our house. Get out now before you make worse.” And then she looked at me, flipped her fingers back and forth to shoo us out of the back room. “Both of you. Out. Now.”
Ethan took a step toward the door, but glanced back at Gabriel. “We aren’t done with this conversation.”
Gabriel spread his hands, smiled toothily. “Anytime, Sullivan.”
We walked out of the bar, leaving Gabriel Keene in Little Red, and our alliance on a knife’s edge.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DECIDER
Ethan fumed in silence as we walked back to the car and drove back to Hyde Park.
His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and he pushed the car to the absolute limit. He’d taken surface streets, tested the length of every yellow light between Ukrainian Village and Hyde Park, and had nearly raced a small car with a spoiler off the line at a stoplight. The car’s driver looked at the Audi the way a man might look at a beautiful woman—with lust and wanting.
Ethan was still fuming when we pulled into the House’s parking garage. He slid the car into its slot, slammed out of the car.
“Would you like to talk before you take that enormous magical chip on your shoulder into the House?”
He turned on me. “Would I like to talk about it? Talk about what, precisely, Sentinel? The fact that our ‘ally’ knew about Reed, knew about his connection to supernaturals, and ignored it?”
“He wasn’t an ally at the time—not when Caleb joined Reed.”
“He’s a goddamn ally now,” Ethan said, “and he’s been one for months.”
“You didn’t tell him what we found at Caleb Franklin’s house. You didn’t tell him about the key.”
“And why should I? Caleb Franklin defected, and there’s no evidence the key belonged to him or, even if it did, that it has any bearing here.”
“So it’s all right if you withhold information strategically, but not if he does it?”
I knew I was getting perilously close to insubordination. But that was the point.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Sentinel.” Ethan stalked into the House, let the basement door slam behind us. The House seemed to shudder from the impact of anger, magic, and brute force.
He strode down the hall toward the Ops Room, temper flaring. If he wasn’t careful, he’d spill that fury out on people who didn’t deserve it. Not when it was really about the Pack.
And there were certainly better ways to work out his aggression.
“Actually, I think that’s exactly what you’re in the mood for.” I grabbed his arm and, when he turned back to glower, met his stare head-on.
“Let go of me.”
I didn’t. “You want to go a round? We’re yards away from the training room. If you want to hit something, you can try to hit me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t push me, Sentinel.”
It was too late for that. I’d been with this man for a year, and I knew exactly what buttons to push. “Oh, I’ll push you, and I’ll probably win. You want an invitation you can’t refuse? Fine. Ethan Sullivan, I challenge you.”
A single eyebrow arched. “Those are serious words, Sentinel, with serious implications.”
“I’m well aware, Sire.”
Ethan pivoted, strode like a warrior in the heat of battle to the training room, pushed open the doors. It was one of the larger rooms in Cadogan House, with tatami mats across the floor, weapons hanging from the wood-paneled walls, and a balcony ringing the room to allow vampires to watch whatever battle was taking place.
Tonight, there were guards in the room—Luc, Kelley, Brody, and a few of the temps—practicing basic throws and falls. They all looked up in alarm when the door swung open, slammed back against the wall.