Chapter 4 - The Blood Oath
Silas froze, his hand stopping inches from her face.
His eyes locked onto the key.
It was rusted, wrapped in a faded red ribbon that had been stained dark with old, dried blood.
“The ledger,” Silas breathed, his cool demeanor cracking for a fraction of a second.
“He told me you’d try to take the ring first,” Lyra said, her voice steady. “But he also said you’d want this more.”
The ledger of the Iron Wolves.
It contained every name, every transaction, every dirty secret of every politician, judge, and rival gang leader in the state.
Without it, Silas was just a thug in a leather vest.
With it, he was a king.
“Where is it?” Silas demanded, his voice losing its smooth edge, turning jagged and dangerous.
“Safe,” Lyra said. “Where you will never find it unless I take you there.”
Marcus looked up, his eyes wide. “Silas… if she has the ledger, and the ring…”
“Shut up, Marcus!” Silas snapped, not breaking eye contact with the girl.
The men in the bar began to whisper, the balance of power shifting like sand beneath their boots.
They had tolerated Silas because they had no choice, but Roman’s blood still called to them.
“You think you’re smart, kid?” Silas whispered. “You’re ten years old. You’re alone.”
May you like
“I’m not alone,” Lyra said.
And right on cue, the back door of the bar rattled.
