Kingmakers, Year One

25. Leo

25

LEO

D ean faces me, fists already raised, Bram and Valon Hoxha right behind him.

Dean never turns red when he gets angry. His skin blanches paler than ever and becomes as stiff as a mask. The only light in his face is the glint of his incisors as his upper lip draws up in a snarl.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” Anna says, furious.

Dean ignores her completely. His eyes are fixed on me and me alone.

So I say it again, to be sure he heard it.

“Anna doesn’t belong to you.”

“The fuck she doesn’t,” Dean hisses. “If you so much as look at her, I’ll cut your fucking throat.”

“Leo . . .” Anna says warningly.

She’s probably worried that Dean’s out of his mind, because he certainly looks crazy enough to try to kill me. Or she might be concerned that it’s three against one. Until Ares materializes beside me, silent but staring at the Penose in a way that makes it very clear that he’ll back me up whatever happens.

“It’s okay, Anna.” I give her a reassuring look.

Apparently Dean was serious about me keeping my eyes to myself, because that’s all it takes. He charges at me, fists up in his boxer’s stance. I barely have time to get my own hands up before he sends a flurry of punches directly at my face.

I’m not in the best condition for a fight. Those paintballs were no fucking joke—my head was already throbbing before Dean clocks me with a hard right cross, rattling my brain in my skull.

Vaguely I’m aware that Bram and Valon have likewise charged at Ares, and the three of them are rolling around on the floor kicking and punching each other. But I can’t pay any attention to that, because Dean is still attacking full-throttle. He’s no easy opponent even when I’m in peak condition.

He slams his fist into my ribs, ribs that might already be fractured from half a dozen paintballs. The yell that comes out of me is strangled and hoarse.

Exchanging blows with Dean while he’s fresh and I’m beat is a bad idea. I’ve gotta follow Ares’s example and take this motherfucker down to the ground.

Diving under Dean’s next blow, I drive my shoulder into his chest and knock him backward. He goes down hard, all my weight on top of him. He tries to roll out of it, but I’ve already seized the front of his shirt and I use that to hold him in place while I pummel him with my right hand. I’ve got the longer reach, and I hit him three or four times hard in the face while his punches can only barely make contact.

Valon gets free of Ares and punches me hard in the left ear, knocking me off of Dean.

Furiously, Anna knees Valon right in the face, but she’s grabbed around the waist by another Penose who drags her backward out of the fight.

At this point, it’s an all-out brawl. The mood of celebration has splintered into a dozen different fistfights, mostly between Dean’s Penose and Bratva and some of my closer friends, including Kenzo and Hedeon.

I can’t see Anna. While I’m distracted looking for her, Dean hits me with a left hook that sends blinding flashes of light across my vision. I hit him back in the nose and jaw, and soon we’re rolling around again, kneeing, hitting, and elbowing every inch of each other we can reach. Our blood patters down on the bare boards, some from Dean but more from me.

Dean tries to stick his thumb in my eye, and I boot him off of me with a heel to the chest. We both scramble upright again, Dean bleeding heavily from his nose and me leaning hard to the side, ‘cause my ribs are a flaming ball of agony.

We’re about to rush each other again when I hear Anna screaming, “STOP! PLEASE STOP!!!”

Dean and I stare at each other, breathing hard, our blood dripping down.

I don’t want to stop. I want to fucking kill him.

But I’ll do anything for Anna.

“Alright.” I hold up my hands. “I’ll stop.”

I turn to look at her.

That’s when Dean’s fist comes crashing down on my jaw.