Despite Asher going on a rampage, the Mafia King was meticulous, leaving not even a single thug alive.
By the time they got to the third club, Jael had already started to pace out of worry. There were even more thugs, the High Council sending reinforcements despite how quickly their men were being cut down.
It was like the thugs were expendable to them, no more than figures on paper.
Jael didn't care much for that, it was Asher against so many. All that was needed was one mistake on his part, a single hint of fatigue, and he would be overwhelmed by the sheer number of opponents.
Nikolai was scowling as he stared at the bloody doors that they once again couldn't go through. "Where is the High Council getting so many thugs from?"
"My guess would be downtown," Davian muttered, his attention on Jael.
"Gage still isn't picking up, but maybe Caspian could knock him out of it…" Jael muttered to himself, making no move to call up Caspian despite his words.
