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Each of these pricks are House members.
Untouchable. Living and existing in a secret world only a few know about.
They’re all various glimpses of strong features, powerful muscles, and sun-kissed skin. One looks like he’s been forcibly dragged from the depths of the forest to be here. The other two look like they’d be equally as at home in a boardroom as a graveyard. Lethal with their words and their weapons. Meanwhile, wolf boy seems like he’d prefer teeth…or claws…or perhaps knives judging by the way his fingers flex around an imaginary handle.
The one who held my hand and hit me with the charm offensive is dressed in workout gear, while the other two are in matching black shirts and dress slacks.
But I see them for what they truly are.
Grim Reapers, ready to claim their next soul.
6
Her baby-blue eyes glisten with the fake tears I’d bet my hard-earned fortune she thinks will save her life. A pretty little performance.
Not a single one of us is buying her crap.
Does she think we have any care for the likes of her?
We’ve seen what the women of Noire House are capable of a thousand times before. They beg. They plead. Anything to save their own skin. They’ll even offer to suck your cock, before turning around and putting a bullet in your skull without a second’s hesitation.
Those cunts are as foul as the man who ran that Household.
“How long have I been here?” Her demand echoes around the open-plan kitchen. Her arms are crossed, and she’s still wearing the dress from when we took her, long purple hair piled in a wild heap on top of her head. It might be the mist billowing gray sheets against the windows, but her skin has a definite paleness to it this morning; she’s a sickly chalk color.
The after-effects of the drugs in combination with an empty stomach will be stringing her out.
Perfect.
“A day, give or take.” I narrow my gaze on her, daring this girl to try anything. We’ll gladly dispose of her in an equally as bloodstained fashion as whoever dealt to her father.
“Are you working for him?”
Swirling my coffee around, I take a long sip. Carefully weighing how to answer that question.
Ven ignores her presence, keeping his back to her while seated on one of the stools at the granite-topped island. There’s no missing that Ky’s eyes are hungry, raking over her tits, and that’s a fucking problem. But I don’t have time for his shit right now; I’m already on a tight schedule, and dealing with our new captive’s tantrums isn’t high on my priority list. Leaving her to Ven’s style of hospitality will be more than enough to have her falling into line. One glimpse at his demons and she’ll behave exactly as we need.
“I asked a question, asshole.” She’s shifted her arms down to wrap her stomach, but lobs hand grenades in my direction with her eyes.
“I would have thought you’d know the answer to that. Being the Noire House heir and all.” Placing my mug on the counter, I cross my arms and give her nothing.
Ky will be dying to interject and run his mouth like always, but even he knows now isn’t the time. Fortunately for my sanity, he keeps his lips sealed and quietly drinks his coffee.
“That world was never my choice. My father can go fuck himself if he thinks hiring you dickwads will bring me back in.” Her anger is a palpable thing.
She thinks her father is still alive. Interesting. Either that, or there’s some gambit she’s trying to play here, but I suspect even a girl like her isn’t smart enough for those kinds of schemes.
I run a thumb over my mouth as I consider exactly how dangerous the cunt standing in my kitchen is going to be. How much is it going to take to break her, mold her, and have her dutifully doing our bidding while we tear apart the House she represents.
“Your father is dead.” My harsh words don’t even cause a flinch. In fact, her small frame straightens and she sets her shoulders.
“Good. Now let me go, you sick fucks.”
“Not happening.”
This brings a flush to the paleness of her face. A tiny spot of color graces each cheek.
“Jesus, you brainwashed idiots are all the same. I have a life. My business. My work. My art. You can’t just drug someone—”
