move onto the real reason we’re all here tonight.
“We have to put forward our nominees for the Game. If you have someone in mind, they have to be put forward tonight. If you don’t put them down tonight, you can’t throw them into the ring next week. Am I clear on that, Viper?”
The bookie grunts and waves a hand, notorious for changing rules as he sees fit. Last year he’d swapped out guys in the third round and had a screaming match with the Ox about it on the sidelines when his new guy won.
Atticus waits for any objections and when there are none, he starts to slowly call on each of the members to put their people forward.
The Fox looks around the table at each of us, the brightly colored tattoos etched into his aging skin a marker of the time and hard nature of being the party man. I wonder how many of the Jackal’s drugs he’s taken over the years or if he knew about the dirty batches he’d pass out to anyone he needed to disappear.
I wonder how much the Fox trusted his now dead accomplice.
“I have eight men to put forward.”
Atticus nods and takes down their names as the Fox lists them off. None of the men ring any bells and by the look on Aodhan’s face they mean nothing to him as well.
I’ll ask Illi about them later, once Atticus gives me a copy of the notes.
The Bear has a seemingly endless list of men, including two of the Lynx’s relatives, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s trying to court some new friends and revive his destroyed business by having a new partner in the Twelve. Pathetic.
The Tiger has one man, someone Atticus arranged for him, and he looks as though this entire meeting is distasteful to him. I often wonder about his reasons for joining the Twelve and why he doesn’t just take his fortune and leave. It’s probably safe to do so now, I highly doubt anyone at this table currently would object.
Jackson names another of the Crow’s picks, his Wolf tattoo flexing on the table as he picks at a bullet hole. He smirks when he notices me looking at it, wriggling his fingers in that chronically flirty way that he has. I’m convinced he doesn’t even realize just how suggestive he is because I’ve seen how he is with Viola, but Aodhan leans forward in his seat to death stare at him.
Atticus refrains.
I actually respect him a little more for finally not interfering with what I do at this table on the Wolf’s behalf, for not throwing himself in between me and any perceived threat.
These weak men are not a threat to me, not really, not now the Jackal is dead and everything that once was a sure thing in the Bay is yet again up in the air.
The Ox, the Boar, and the Viper each name a small handful of men. There aren’t any women yet but I actually think that’s a good thing, considering I don’t really want to watch their deaths and I want Jack and Lucy to win.
“Stag, who are you nominating?” Atticus’ eyes give nothing away and I’d be impressed if I weren’t so sure he’s plotting out Aodhan’s death every second of the day.
“Jack O’Cronin.”
The Bear scoffs and snaps, “More fucking family. Everyone is trying to fill the seats with allies.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You put forward twenty-two men of your own. If anyone is trying to manipulate this process for their own gain, it’s definitely you.”
He turns on me with a curled lip and manic eyes that are just a little too Joey-esque for my liking. “There’s never been a cap on nominees. Don’t try to change the fucking rules now just to suit yourself. Some of us are real Mounties and enjoy a little bloodsport. Maybe you should go home to your gilded fucking castle and play pretend there.”
What I wouldn’t give to wipe this man off of the board.
Atticus doesn’t interrupt for once. It’s jarring because I’m so used to him throwing himself into every little interaction or argument, but he just sits there and waits until I’m done.
I take a deep breath.
“Your men will all be dead before the third round. If the Viper is running the books for the Game, I’ll put money on it. You only won the Game because you went up against the weakest and most pathetic that the Bay had