Page 42 of Manic

“Ona moya,” Manic said calmly, but a warning laced his tone. “Ty na moej territorii. Vso v etom chertovom klube prinadlezhit mne, Volkov.”

Whatever Manic just said seemed to piss Dmitri off as he squared his shoulders. For a moment, I thought they’d begin fighting, but then Dmitri’s jaw tightened. He growled a retort to Manic before snapping his fingers at the men behind him. They all shot to their feet, and Dmitri focused on me.

I held back an embarrassing whimper and inched closer to Manic. His other hand snaked around my ribs, as if he were merely holding me steady. Yet I knew what it looked like on surface level—he was staking claim. Fortunately, I was too drunk to care about anything other than leaving.

A few more heated words were exchanged, and Manic’s chest rumbled against my back, his voice rising to a level that had my adrenaline pumping. I figured Manic would have been the first to hand me off, but it appeared he was defending us.

At least, that was what I hoped.

“Stay,” Manic told Dmitri. “We’ll escort them out. The next round is on me. Sorry for the confusion.”

Dmitri smiled while he studied me, cold and unforgiving, as if he were mentally cataloging my features.

“Fine. We stay,” Dmitri said, and they all sat back down. He shot me a wink. “Next time then.”

Over my dead body.

Without so much as a word, Grave descended the hall with Amelia. Manic gripped my elbow, dragging me along, even as I stumbled. I made no protest. Not even when he glared at me. He was clearly pissed.

“Who are they?” I whispered once we were out of earshot.

Manic ignored me, leading us up the steps, and music blasted through the building once more. We weaved through the crowd, and after a few minutes, we arrived outside. Summer air fanned my cheeks in welcome relief. Then Manic released me to rake an angry hand through his hair.

With unsteady feet, I swallowed the bile in my throat as everything sank in—from how close we were to being stuck down there with those men. Something that could have ended badly if Manic and Grave hadn’t shown up.

It made me wonder how they knew we were down there, but then I remembered that Amelia had invited them to join us. Perhaps they’d walked into the VIP area, noticed we weren’t there, and went looking.

I turned, expecting to find Grave and Amelia nearby, but a black Mercedes squealed past, similar to the one Manic was standing beside. The street was empty, and the music had died down. How far did we walk?

“What happened?” Manic demanded.

I blinked again, shaking my head as it swam and details became blurry. It took everything to hold myself upright. “We were drinking when I went to the bathroom. Those—those lawyers had convinced Amelia to play poker. I couldn’t just⁠—”

Manic snapped my face up with a firm grip on my jaw. “Your pupils are blown and you're slurring your words, Sutton. Did you take something?”

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows lowered, his expression blanking. A muscle jumped in his jaw. My mouth dried as he stared and stared, because I knew that blank expression was one filled with absolute rage.

“They didn’t want you for poker,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Clearly.” I swallowed the cotton feeling in my throat. “If it was such a concern, why did you let us into your club? Do you know what they’re doing down there? How do they know me and Amelia?”

The questions spilled from my lips like an open faucet, but I wasn’t convinced he understood what I was saying because he sighed and released me again. I immediately stumbled back with a pained groan, my head spinning, but his firm hold on my waist kept me from tipping over.

I swayed again, and Manic grumbled a few curses under his breath. The need to vomit twisted my stomach, but I was quickly led away from the sidewalk.

My eyes screwed shut, but when I blinked to clear my vision again, lamplight swept over the windshield. Manic leaned against the driver’s seat with a clenched jaw, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His other arm rested on the leather console.

I heaved a breath and took in my surroundings, overwhelmed by his cologne filling the small space. It was clear I’d lost sense of time. Was I in his car? How did I get here?

“Where are you taking me?” I murmured, my voice thin.

I tugged on the suit jacket placed over my chest before leaning my head against the window. Did he give me his coat? It smelled like him.

“Home.”

I smirked and shut my eyes. “Whose home?”