Chapter 73
The bar was quiet when Elijah walked through the door.
The front door was still intact—the attack had been focused on the warehouse, not the bar—but the news had traveled fast. Gang members stood in small groups, their voices low, their faces tense. Some of them had blood on their jackets. Some of them were still holding their weapons.
Mai was behind the bar, her purple eyes distant, her hands steady as she poured drinks for the men who needed them. She looked up when Elijah entered, and something in her face relaxed slightly. But she didn't smile. There was nothing to smile about.
Kai was waiting for him near the stairs.
His jacket was clean, his hands were steady, his blue eyes were calm. But Elijah had known him long enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.
"The warehouse?" Elijah asked.
"Under control," Kai said. "Henry and Tristan are there with the prisoners. Twenty-five of them survived. The rest are dead or ran."
"And our people?"
"Wounded, but alive. No one died."
Elijah nodded.
"The other vice leaders are already at the warehouse," Kai continued. "Rena is there too."
Elijah walked toward the door, and Kai fell into step beside him.
"Who was it?" Elijah asked.
"Two gangs from the 9th," Kai said. "The ones who attacked the warehouse are from the south side of our territory. They've been there for years, small operation, but they've survived by staying quiet and not making enemies."
Elijah's eyes narrowed. "And the ones who were supposed to hit the bar?"
"Different gang. From the north side of our territory. They're about the same size as us. They've been watching us for weeks."
Elijah stopped walking. "Two gangs attacked us at the same time?"
Kai nodded. "Coordinated. The south side gang hit the warehouse. The north side gang was supposed to hit the bar. But they pulled back at the last minute."
"Why?"
Kai's jaw tightened. "We don't know yet. But we're going to find out."
They walked out of the bar and into the night. The street was empty, the usual crowds gone, the usual noise silenced.
The warehouse on Cutter Street looked like a war zone.
The door was gone, shattered into pieces that still lay scattered across the ground. The walls were scarred with bullet holes and knife marks. The windows were broken, the glass glittering on the concrete floor like stars that had fallen from the sky.
Inside, the crowd was gone. The fighters were gone. The only people left were the Azura gang and the prisoners.
The prisoners were kneeling in the center of the warehouse, their hands bound behind their backs, their heads bowed. Twenty-five of them, just as Kai had said. Men and women both, their faces covered in bruises and dried blood, their clothes torn, their weapons taken.
Some of them were crying. Others were staring at the floor with empty eyes. A few were watching the Azura gang members who stood guard around them, their faces hard.
Henry was leaning against the wall near the destroyed ring, his arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes watching the prisoners. His jacket was torn, his arms were bandaged, his face was bruised.
Tristan stood on the other side of the warehouse, his purple eyes cold, his hand resting on the blade at his hip. His jacket was gone, replaced by a black shirt that showed the cuts on his arms and chest. He didn't look like he had been in a fight. He looked like he had won one.
Aurora was there too, her silver hair pulled back, her blue eyes sharp. She stood near the prisoners, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. Her club hadn't been attacked—very few people knew it was connected to the Azura gang—but she had come anyway. She had come to help.
Rena was at the far end of the warehouse, her notebook open in her hands, her pen moving across the page. She was counting the prisoners, cataloging their injuries, making notes about something Elijah didn't ask about. She looked up when he entered, nodded once, and went back to her work.
Elijah walked into the center of the warehouse.
The prisoners looked up at him. Some of them recognized him—the red eyes, the black jacket with the golden sun and golden trim. Others just saw a young man who moved like he owned the place.
Tristan pushed off from the wall and walked over to Elijah.
"The gang from the south side," Tristan said. "They're the ones who attacked the warehouse. We fought off two of their Peak fighters. The rest were High and Mid."
"And the ones who were supposed to hit the bar?" Elijah asked.
Tristan shook his head. "They never came. Kai told me they pulled back at the last minute."
Elijah nodded. "The gang from the north side. They surrounded the bar but didn't attack."
Tristan's purple eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
Elijah looked around the warehouse. "Did we lose anyone?"
"No," Tristan said. "Some of our people are wounded, but no one died."
Elijah nodded. That was good.
Kai appeared at Elijah's side, his blue eyes scanning the prisoners. "What do you want to do with them?"
Elijah didn't answer immediately. He walked toward the prisoners, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the sound echoing through the silent warehouse. The prisoners watched him approach. Some of them flinched. Others held their ground, their jaws set, their eyes defiant.
One of them—a man with a shaved head and a scar across his cheek, his aura weak and flickering—spat on the floor as Elijah passed.
Elijah stopped.
He looked down at the man. The man stared back, his eyes full of hate.
"You're going to die," the man said. His voice was rough, broken. "My gang has been in the 9th longer than you've been alive. You think you can just—"
Elijah's hand moved.
The man's head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his split lip. He didn't fall—his bound hands kept him upright—but his eyes went wide, and his mouth closed.
Elijah turned to Kai.
"Give me your gun," he said.
Kai didn't hesitate. He pulled his pistol from his jacket and handed it to Elijah. The weight was familiar now, the cold metal pressing against his palm.
Elijah walked to the center of the prisoners.
Twenty-five men and women knelt before him, their hands bound, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling. Some of them were praying. A few were watching him with eyes that held nothing but fear.
He raised the gun.
"The gang from the south side attacked our territory tonight," Elijah said. His voice was calm, steady, the kind of calm that came from knowing exactly what he was going to do. "You came to our warehouse. You brought weapons. You tried to kill my people."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"You didn't announce yourselves. You didn't send a warning. You just came, and you tried to kill people who have families to return to."
His voice dropped lower.
"You're lucky no one from my side died tonight. If one of my people had been killed, the punishment would have been greater. But as it is—"
He raised the gun and fired.
The first bullet hit the man with the shaved head and the scar across his cheek—the one who had spat on the floor. His body jerked, his eyes went wide, and he fell sideways, blood spreading across the concrete floor.
The prisoners screamed. Some of them tried to run, but the Azura gang members were there, their hands on their shoulders, forcing them back to their knees.
Elijah fired again.
The second bullet hit a woman with short red hair and a blue aura—one of the Peak fighters who had led the attack. She had almost killed Henry.
She fell without a sound.
The third bullet hit a man with a tattoo on his neck, the one who had shouted orders to the others. He had been the one rallying the attackers, keeping them fighting even when they should have run.
He crumpled to the floor, his blood mixing with the blood of the others.
The fourth bullet hit a man who had been hiding behind the others, his face pale, his eyes wide. He was young—barely older than Elijah—and his hands were shaking.
He fell, and the fifth bullet hit a woman who had been standing beside him, her dark hair matted with blood, her jaw set. She didn't scream. She didn't beg. She just stared at Elijah as the bullet entered her chest, and then her eyes went blank, and she fell.
Five bodies lay on the concrete floor. The blood spread slowly, pooling around the bodies, staining the knees of the prisoners who knelt beside them.
The remaining twenty prisoners were silent now.Just the sound of their breathing, ragged and shallow, and the soft drip of blood from the bodies beside them.
Elijah lowered the gun.
He looked at the prisoners. Some of them were crying silently, tears streaming down their faces. Others were staring at the bodies of their comrades, their faces pale, their mouths open. A few were looking at Elijah with something that might have been understanding.
He walked slowly along the line of prisoners, his footsteps echoing through the silence.
"The rest of you have a choice."
The prisoners looked up at him.
"You can die here, right now, on this floor, next to your comrades. That would be easy. One bullet each."
He stopped in front of a young woman with brown hair and gray eyes. She was shaking, her body trembling so hard that her bound hands rattled against each other.
"Or," Elijah said, "you can work for me."
The woman's eyes widened.
"You're going to take me to your gang's headquarters. You're going to show me where your leaders are. And then you're going to help me destroy the gang from the south side."
He looked at the other prisoners.
"Every single one of you. If you refuse, you die here. If you try to run, you die here. If you betray me, you die later. But if you help me—if you do what I say and follow my orders—you might live."
He raised the gun again, not aiming at anyone, just holding it where they could see it.
"Choose."
The King's Aura exploded outward.
It filled the warehouse, heavy and absolute, pressing down on everyone inside it. The prisoners gasped, their bodies locking up, their breathing becoming shallow.
Some of them collapsed, their faces hitting the concrete floor. Others stayed on their knees, but their hands trembled, and their eyes were wide with terror.
The Azura gang members felt it too. Some of them staggered, their hands going to their chests, their auras flickering. Henry's jaw tightened, and he grabbed the wall to steady himself. Tristan's purple eyes narrowed, but he didn't move. Kai stood beside Elijah, his face pale.