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I shriek at the sudden lift of my body, only to flinch at the sound of a shot being let loose. The intruder is screaming now, his right leg twitching uncontrollably while blood pours freely.
That shot seems to trigger the security team to come out of the massive brown doors ahead.
Talk about late as fuck.
“Lock him up downstairs.” All it takes is a look to my right to confirm Domino is the one who snatched me off the intruder and has me tightly pressed against his side.
I’m not sure why the fuck he got involved by pulling me away from this dude, but he’s carrying me like precious cargo he can’t afford to lose. Not really precious with how I’m dangling from his tight grip.
It forces me to acknowledge how massive his arm is. Full of muscles and tattoos as he further tightens his hold around my waist, which seems so small in comparison.
Whatever.
The men in black combat gear don’t utter a word. They move swiftly, following orders while trying not to acknowledge the obvious ‘lack’ in response.
By the time they’re gone, I’m shocked to say the place looks like we hadn’t just dealt with an intruder.
Those security douches even cleaned and sterilized the blood on the floor.
“I want first dibs,” Zander volunteers like this is some game.
To him, maybe it is.
“Whatever,” Domino doesn’t care.
Instead, he’s looking down at me as I continue to stare up at him. His stare proves he still hates my fucking guts, but when those fierce brown-honey eyes narrow, I can only frown.
“What?” I huff. “Upset I don’t want your assassin killing himself before getting some good intel? Or was this all a setup to see what I’d do?”
“I wish it was,” he grumbles and drops me.
Fucking drops me.
“Really?” It’s Warren who speaks up—surprisingly—leaving Domino no choice but to glare at the man in question.
“Who the fuck gave you permission to be in our space?” he snaps at him.
“I’m doing my job,” Warren states with that emotionless stare. “I’d suggest you respect that here and now.”
“This is OUR space. I don’t need to respect a commoner. You think because you’re related to a Ruthless King, you’re allowed to be among us royals?”
“I don’t give a shit what you are,” Warren declares. “Royals, yet your security team would have waltzed into a crime scene with all three of you dead.”
“Four,” Domino corrects and points down to me. “She’d be the first one dead.”
“She’d be the first one to not only figure out who sent that bastard here, but she would have easily been the only survivor because you three aren’t trigger-happy enough to kill a man in your territory aimed to kill who you’ve yet to claim,” Warren snaps back. “And don’t fucking drop her again, or I’ll happily shoot your hand off.”
“You son of a?—”
“Aries.” I look up to the stairs where Ares is looking at his brother. “Who sent that fucker?”
Warren’s real name is Aries.Ares and Aries? Were their parents hoping they were long-lost twins five to ten years apart or some shit?
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Rich people seem to call their children odd names and find it “cute” and “unique.”
“Matteo.”
