The Pendleton headquarters' conference room thrummed with barely contained violence.
Kevin sat rigid at the round table, knuckles white as the Wild Dogs and Iron Serpents gang leaders brazenly carved up Pendleton territory before him. Only the presence of Councilor Jack and his entourage kept his pistol holstered.
The gang bosses exchanged smug glances. If the Pendletons were still strong, why wasn't this lapdog fighting back? Their voices grew louder, demands more outrageous.
CRASH!
A portly bald man shattered his teacup against the floor. Two dozen guns snapped up in response.
"Listen here, Pendleton," the bald gangster sneered, jabbing a sausage-like finger at Kevin. "You'll hand over Green, Cameo, Oak, and Cooper Districts—or we'll burn your corpse in them."
Kevin's reply was ice. "Over my dead body."
"Exactly the plan." The bald man drew a finger across his throat—
—when the doors burst open.
A boy of sixteen strode in, black trench coat swirling. The silver sword at his hip gleamed like a predator's fang.
"Young Lord." Kevin bowed instantly. Even Councilor Jack leaned forward, suddenly attentive.
The bald gangster's laughter rang hollow. "This is your savior? Some brat with a—gkh!"
A crimson arc painted the conference table.
Vega flicked blood from Crimson Pupil's Severance as the gangster crumpled, clutching his opened throat.
"I believe," Vega said softly, "I asked why these vermin were here."
The sword's edge pulsed with ghostlight.
The real negotiation had begun.