Liar (Madison Kate #2)(88)
"Leave," I snapped, letting all my pent-up rage shine through my eyes. "Now."
She wanted to argue, I could see it all over her face, but she was also scared. Not of me—I wasn't all that scary, yet—but of Archer and the boys. I could see it in the nervous way her eyes flickered between the three of them and her face lost a bit of color. She'd be getting no backup from any of them. Not tonight, not ever again.
"Just go, Drew," Archer drawled. Every eye in the area was on her. On us. "Climb another social ladder; you've been permanently removed from this one."
It was bad enough that she was being so publicly rejected; I was actually starting to feel bad for her. But then she scrambled to her feet and spat in my face before stomping off into the crowd.
Who fucking spits at someone? Of all the revolting things.
"Here," someone said, handing me a legit cotton handkerchief to wipe Drew's nasty saliva from my face. I had screwed my eyes shut instinctively—because fuck getting an eye infection—so it wasn't until I wiped the ew off my skin that I saw who'd rescued me with their old-school hanky.
"Uh, thanks?" It was a question because based on the expressions on the guys faces—and how Archer and Kody were on their feet now—I was going to guess this wasn't a friend.
The guy smiled at me, and I recognized those eyes. Ah shit.
"I'm going to take a wild guess here and assume you're Ferryman?" It really wasn't a huge stretch, given how he looked like an older version of both Archer and Zane. Strong genes in the D'Ath family, apparently.
The older gang leader let his smile spread wider. He was dressed sharply in a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and an expensive sport coat. But every inch of skin from jawline down—every inch visible—was inked, and his hair was slicked back in a short ponytail with the underside shaved.
"And you must be Madison Kate Danvers," he replied, all shiny white teeth and sparkling eyes. "I've heard so much about you."
32
"What the fuck are you doing here, Charon?" Archer growled in a dangerously quiet voice. His strong fingers closed on my hip, tugging me away from his uncle, the Ferryman, leader of the Shadow Grove Wraiths. How the fuck my father had tried to sell the notion that Shadow Grove was now gang free was totally beyond me. In fact, I'd say things were worse than ever.
Ferryman turned that wide, totally fake smile on his nephew, effectively dismissing me from his attention. "I couldn't miss the opportunity to congratulate you on your big win, Archie. Your dad would have been so proud."
Fuck me. If sharks could wear suits...
Archer scoffed a bitter laugh. "My dad would have been a whole number of things, but pride wasn't an emotion he was familiar with. I'm going to ask you once more. What the fuck are you doing here?"
Ferryman cocked his head to the side, his cool eyes sweeping over his nephew, then giving a cursory but cautious glance to Steele and Kody before resting on Archer's hand still on my hip. "What an interesting bunch you four are," he murmured with amusement before snapping his gaze back to Archer's face. "I wanted to speak with you on a business matter, nephew. A party on neutral ground sounded like the perfect opportunity. Shall we get a drink and move somewhere more private?"
"If you wanted to talk business, Charon, you should have used the correct protocols. This isn't the time or the place." Archer's voice was glacial cold, and I burned with questions. What fucking pull did Archer D'Ath hold over both the Reapers and the Wraiths? I doubted it was simply a blood-connection thing.
"I'm inclined to agree," a familiar voice added, and like a scene from a suspense thriller, Zane D'Ath emerged from the crowd of partygoers.
Kody released a long breath in a hiss, and Steele let out a small groan. Archer was like a block of ice, though.
"I guess I missed the memo that this would be a family reunion," Archer commented, his voice calm and emotionless. "Don't tell me you also came to congratulate me on my win?" He eyed his older brother with a sneer, but the leader of the Shadow Grove Reapers just smirked.
"Nope, you don't need a bigger ego than you've already got, little brother."
I snorted a laugh, then tried to cover it with my hand. At least Zane had that right. My snicker had pulled his attention, though, and he eyed me with an intense gaze.
"I actually didn't come here to see you at all, but I am glad I interrupted whatever was going on here." Zane indicated to Ferryman, then propped his hands in his denim pockets to not-so-subtly show off the gun tucked into his waistband. "What's this business proposition, Charon? I'm most intrigued now."
Ferryman slid his hand to his own waist, where I strongly suspected he had a gun of his own tucked away. The whole thing would turn into a replica of Riot Night in seconds if we didn't do something to diffuse the situation... or at least get it away from all the innocent bystanders.
"Maybe you should take this elsewhere," I murmured to anyone who wanted to listen. The last thing I wanted was to be involved in more collateral damage when the Reapers and Wraiths clashed.
Archer's fingers—still on my hip for some reason—flexed with acknowledgement, and he nodded to Steele in some silent bro-language. Steele inclined his head back and disappeared into the venue.