“Giving my food away, are you?” Gavino grinned. He leaned against a countertop and winked. “Yep. So do you wanna make a bet how long the House will manage to keep Killian hostage?” There was another bang below our feet—I’m pretty sure it was the sound of another bullet firing. Gavino didn’t even blink. “Nope,” he said. “Not interested at all. If I place a winning bet, I’m pretty sure His Eminence will be quite offended.” I cackled and affectionately patted the House, which seemed to purr in response.
