Chapter 3

Mine

Dante Vittori gathered the slave data on this most recent batch and pushed the papers into an envelope. There were forty-six this time, currently being loaded up for shipping. At the rate they were coming in, he wasn’t surprised that the Blacks and Timber Ridge were taking notice.

The old desk chair creaked as Dante leaned back, rubbing the tension from his brow. Business would all go more smoothly if Luther didn’t keep sending down his people to “help.” The most recent was General Marcus, currently outside scrutinizing every move of his men. But Dante put up with it because securing the king’s trust was paramount.

His door flew open, and Jimmy came in, almost running. He was a promising new soldier, a young vampire and eager. “We got a problem, Boss.”

Great. This was the last thing they needed with Marcus sniffing around.

“Marcus caught a stray slave,” Jimmy rushed out. “He’s not one of the cargo. Looks to be a rebel.”

The tension in Dante’s head increased. He stood and stalked out of the office, his subordinate hurrying to keep up behind him.

The old rusted steps creaked on their descent into the large, dark space. The vampires had no trouble seeing, and Dante found General Marcus crouched over an unconscious young man, bound by the wrists and battered on the concrete floor. The boy still breathed, but death might’ve been preferable as Marcus looked gleeful in malicious anticipation.

“What’s this?” Dante asked.

“Caught him headed to your office. With these,” Marcus said, tossing three knives and a small earpiece on the ground before Dante. “An assassin.”

Dante bent and picked up one of the knives, a six-inch dagger with a smoothed wooden hilt and slight impressions of favored use. He touched the blade, and the silver alloy burned his fingers. Why couldn’t the rebels just keep their heads down and live their free little lives?

“They hardly ever let us catch them alive,” Marcus continued. “Luther will be pleased. We can have us a public execution. Justice for King Heinrich’s assassination.”

They both knew that was bullshit. Luther would use this rebel kid as a scapegoat to appease the public. Dante pocketed the knife, the metal warm even through the fabric of his trousers, and gazed at the human. He was beautiful, slender and long-limbed beneath skin-tight clothes. His black hair was pulled back, revealing elegant facial features despite the swelling and grime. Dante wondered what color eyes he might have. Would they widen in fear or shine with defiance?

He would do.

“I sent some of your men to search for any others. Rebels usually work in teams,” Marcus said, hauling up the boy. “I’ll take him—”

“He’s mine.”

Marcus stopped and stared questioningly at Dante. “What?”

“I’ll be taking custody of the rebel, as is my right. He meant to do me harm.” Dante said, gesturing to the remaining knives.

“But—”

Dante took the boy from Marcus, his slight frame easy to handle, and carefully put him over his shoulder—though not too carefully in front of Marcus.

“Take it up with Luther if you have a problem,” Dante said, walking to the warehouse doors. Jimmy ran ahead to open them, and Dante took the little rebel out into the night.

He walked past his soldiers loading the last of the slaves into the cargo ship. Their business was nearly over.

“Jimmy,” Dante snapped.

“Yeah, Boss?” the fledgling answered from right behind him.

“Have Mikhail meet me at the car. Then get the packing list to Liam—it’s on my desk.”

“Yes, Boss.” And he took off to follow his orders.

Dante shifted the human as he walked and appreciated the firm ass beneath his palm. What an unexpected turn of events. He’d have to proceed carefully with the rebel boy or risk rousing Luther’s suspicions.

Dante opened the back door of the car and placed the human inside, securing the seat belt over narrow hips. A groan came from the boy, and his eyes opened. Dark gray like hardened steel—that was the color of the little rebel’s eyes. He looked at Dante in the span of a heartbeat before passing out again.

Dante came back to himself, closing the car door and going around to the other side. He caught sight of Mikhail jogging over to the car.

“Ready to leave, Boss?” he asked.

“Yeah, I need to recuperate after the attempt on my life,” Dante said, nodding towards the backseat.

Mikhail opened the driver’s side door and looked in, then whirled back to Dante. “Shit. This was why Marcus had us running around looking for rebels. This one almost got you?”

“Hardley. Marcus caught him going for the office,” Dante said, sliding into the seat next to the human. “Thought he could hand him over to Luther.”

Mikhail got behind the wheel and started the engine. He looked at Dante through the rearview mirror. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

Dante smirked. Mikhail turned the car fast, and the boy’s upper half landed against Dante’s side. His silky fall of long black hair brushed over Dante’s forearm, over the lines of the Vittori Family tattoo. Dante caught a few strands between his fingers. Interest and intrigue flared over his earlier feelings of inconvenience.

How to go about handling this, Dante mused to himself as the city of Houston rose in the distance, Sky Castle like a bright beacon in the center. It may be unwise to place a new piece on the game board, but a little rebel might be just what they needed.