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or fear; he just needs it to stop. Caleb glances at Rico, holding the fucker who touched their princess.
    He remembers her fear, at his flash of temper. And his father, who could make everything a lesson.
    “Bring him,” he says, softly, and turns Emma toward the back door.
    “What the fuck are you doing, man?” the guy shouts, and security appears. “Get this asshole off me!” he yells, indignant.
    The security stares at Caleb, and he nods shortly to Rico, still steering Emma forward. The younger man sighs, and fishes a thick wad of cash from his pocket. The exchange happens smoothly, while he watches with ice-cold eyes, his hand petting down her hair softly. The security steps away and Caleb gives them a grim smile, before pulling her forward.
    They don’t emerge on the carpet walkway he brought Emma in through. This is a black alley, lit by one streetlight almost fifty yards away. It’s rank, and Caleb can hear rats skittering away, chittering angrily as they are disturbed. The door to the club clangs shut, killing the thrum of music.
    “What the fuck, dude?” the asshole says from where Rico sends him sprawling on the dirty alley ground. He scrambles to his feet, lunging into Rico’s face. He swings, and the enforcer ducks quickly, jabbing at the man’s ribs. He goes down with a muffled yelp.
    “Hold up, Rico,” Caleb says, barely raising his voice. Rico eases out of his tense posture, and Caleb pulls Emma away from where she’s huddling against his chest.
    She whimpers, and he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t want to be the one who has to do this. But Gabe is dead and Seth is gone. There is no one else.
    “I scared you the other day,” he says, forcing her chin up so she is staring at him. Her eyes are wide, and confused, and he waits until he sees what he’s said sink in. She bites her lip and starts to speak. “Don’t. Stop. You’re a smart kid, Emma. You know we’re dangerous—in theory.”
    She nods, her eyes glassy.
    “Boss, what are we doing?” Rico shouts, and she flinches.
    Caleb swallows the urge to tell Rico to fuck himself—and the urge to walk her out of this alley and away from this moment. There isn’t a way to go back from this.
    “I’m going to show you why we’re dangerous. And why you will never be in danger.”
    “Caleb,” she whimpers, and he kisses her forehead, quick and hard, before pulling away. 
    Rico is staring at him, a mixture of disgust and disbelief in his eyes, but he steps away as Caleb approaches the guy on the ground. Caleb stares down at him, and sighs. Flicks a glance back at her. She’s shaking so hard he wonders how she is still standing. Tears are standing in her eyes, and they make his gut twist. Fear, that he can kill.
    His resolve hardens, and he turns and kicks the asshole in the gut. The man whimpers, and even as she shrieks, a muffled noise, he forces himself to draw back and kick the guy again. To make it as brutal and dirty as possible—a bloody fucking object lesson.   
    This. This is what the hotels and parties and nights in clubs hide—the brutal truth of their family.
    “Do you have any idea who the hell you were fucking with?” Caleb says casually, and the guy moans. “Not an answer, man. You were willing to assault a lady on the dance floor, you can answer a fucking question.”
    He kneels down, grabs a handful of hair and slams the man’s face into the pavement.
    “A whore. A pretty dancer. Nothing,” the guy spits out.
    Caleb feels a kick of respect, and amusement. It’s a ballsy answer when his face is being beaten to a fucking pulp on the sidewalk. He slams the guy’s head down and hears teeth crack against the dirty concrete.
    Caleb rolls back on his heels. In a pair of faded jeans, scuffed combat boots and a vintage t-shirt, he’s underdressed for the club, but he’s at home on the street. Natural. A royal fucking thug. Bitterness twists in him, and he funnels it into his voice. “That