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It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Don Sonnelino was a collected man. Cool. Calm. Composed. The kind of man who walked through danger like it was a minor inconvenience.
A rabbit hybrid had to be.
The Sonnelino family did not tolerate weakness, and leporine instincts were considered embarrassingly primitive for a mafia bloodline. Don had spent his entire life burying them beneath discipline and control.
Which made the situation he now found himself in particularly insulting.
Late winter clung to the city like frostbitten breath. Don stepped from the back seat of his car and looked up at the glowing sign above the building.
The Fox’s Den.
Golden letters burned against the dark sky.
A sneer curled his lip.
The moment he stepped through the doors, the casino hit him all at once. Flashing lights. The clatter of machines. Loud music that rattled the ribs. Cigarette smoke hung thick in the air like something rotten.
He had walked through this entrance too many times.
Tonight was supposed to be the last.
Chance’s casino.
What a disgrace. Once a respectable establishment, now sitting in the hands of a smooth-talking fox hybrid who had the audacity to steal from the Sonnelino family.
Don hated even thinking about him.
The thought alone made his ears twitch beneath his hat.
His gaze swept across the casino floor until he spotted him.
And then he stopped.
Chance stood with his back turned near one of the tables, talking animatedly with a woman. His long white hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, falling down the back of a black vest over a bright yellow shirt. Black slacks hung neatly over long legs, and behind him swayed a dark, fluffy tail tipped in white.
His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His hands moved constantly as he spoke, full of energy and easy charm.
The dark fedora, blackout shades, and headset did little to hide the excitement in every motion.
He was probably explaining one of the games again.
Chance liked doing that.
Don knew because-
No.
He crushed the thought immediately.
The rabbit hybrid moved forward.
Six feet of controlled violence crossed the casino floor in silence. The woman speaking to Chance noticed him first. Her eyes widened, and she quickly excused herself before the mafia boss even reached them.
Two dark fox ears flicked backward at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“You know,” Chance said lazily, “this is getting a little predictable, Mafi.”
He turned smoothly on his heel.
A coin flipped idly between his fingers.
It caught the neon lights overhead before dropping neatly back into his palm.
“You should really call ahead next time,” Chance continued. “I could at least roll out the red carpet.”
Don stopped a few feet away.
Chance looked as irritating as ever.
Relaxed posture. Smug grin. That damn coin dancing through his fingers like he had nothing in the world to worry about.
The fox leaned casually onto one hip. His ears were perked with curiosity rather than fear.
Don let the silence stretch.
Around them, the casino continued its chaos, but the space near them slowly cleared. A few players quietly picked up their chips and wandered elsewhere. Dealers slowed their movements, eyes flicking toward the confrontation.
Finally, Don spoke.
“You owe me money.”
Chance rolled the coin across his knuckles.
“Technically,” he said lightly, “I owe your family money. Let’s not make this personal.”
The coin flipped into the air.
A gloved hand snatched it before it could fall.
Chance blinked.
Don stood inches away.
With a snarl, the rabbit hybrid dropped the coin onto the floor.
“Don’t play games with me, Chance. Where is it?”
“We really could have done this outside, you know.”
“Where you could run?” Don scoffed. “Please.”
He stepped closer.
Towering over the fox now.
For the first time, Chance showed a crack. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
Don began to walk.
Slow.
Measured.
Each step deliberate.
“I’ve given you months,” Don said quietly. “Any other man would have been dragged through the streets with a bullet in his skull. But you…”
He circled.
“…thrived off the good graces of our families.”
Another step.
“You humiliated us.”
Another.
“I’m done.”
He stopped behind Chance, lowering his voice near the fox’s ear.
“I want my money.”
Chance’s grin stayed firmly in place, but his ears were pinned flat now.
Still…
Something about the situation was starting to bother him. While Don kept up with his dialogue, Chance could see him circle the space around him.
Over. And over. And over.
Chance quickly glanced down at the coin on the floor.
Heads.
“…You know,” Chance said slowly, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, “I’m not usually one to question things. But I do have one question.”
Don stopped mid-step.
“…Speak.”
Chance tilted his head.
“Are you into me?”
Don whipped around so fast it almost knocked over a chair.
“What?!”
“I mean seriously,” Chance continued, pointing at the ground. “This whole circling thing? I’m getting mixed signals.”
Don stared at him in disbelief.
Chance gestured around them.
“You keep walking circles around me like that. What am I supposed to think?”
It took several seconds for Don to regain his composure.
He grabbed Chance by the collar and yanked him in rage.
“Don’t even imply that, you fleabag.”
“You’re the one doing it!” Chance protested, wincing. “Look, I grew up around rabbits. I know how they work!”
“And you think I came here for that?!”
Chance grabbed Don’s wrist.
“How should I know?! You threaten to kill me every other day, but you keep showing up! You hate my guts and yet you keep letting me live! And now you’re doing courtship circles like I wouldn’t notice?!”
Don froze.
For a moment, it looked like Chance had finally gone too far. When Don’s jaw tightened, his grip on the fox’s collar tightened with it.
Neon lights flickered across his face.
Red eyes burned through the crooked frame of Chance’s sunglasses.
Then-
Don released him like the fabric had burned his hands.
Chance stumbled back a step, straightening his vest with an offended huff. Don stood completely still.
Rigid.
Mortified.
No.
No, that wasn’t-
His posture snapped back into place like armor locking shut.
He needed to leave. Now.
Chance tensed slightly when Don approached again, though the grin creeping back onto his face was impossible to hide.
Don leaned down just enough for his voice to stay between them.
“You have three days.”
Chance blinked.
“…What?”
“Three days,” Don repeated smoothly. “To repay what you owe my family.”
His voice was calm again. Controlled. As if the last thirty seconds had never happened.
“Don’t waste them.”
He turned and walked toward the entrance.
Behind him, Chance fixed his collar and called out,
“We could meet at that restaurant downtown! I’ll treat you!”
Don didn’t even slow down.
The doors of The Fox’s Den burst open, letting in a rush of cold winter air as he stepped outside. The chill was welcome after that humiliation. Don stormed down the street toward his waiting car, where Soldier sat patiently inside.
He didn’t bother explaining anything to his men. They already understood when they saw the look on his face.
The fox lived.
The rabbit will hunt him another day.