I keep one arm wrapped firmly around her as my free hand rakes through her slightly tangled hair. “It’s over,” I murmur quietly, the words feeling useless as they leave my mouth.
Because it isn’t over. Not even close.
Mackenzi presses her face harder into my chest. Her breathing uneven, and the warm dampness of her silent tears soaking through my shirt.
I’ve seen this woman furious, sarcastic, defiant, and reckless as hell. I’ve seen her slam doors, scream at her father, and smart off to men nearly double her size without blinking. But until tonight, I have never seen this shattered, terrified version of my girl.And I fucking hate it.
My jaw clenches hard enough to ache.
“They’re gone,” I tell her again, softer this time. “Nobody’s getting near you. I swear.”
Her fingers twitch against my chest. “You promise?”
“I promise.” And I mean it with every savage piece of me.
I hold her tighter than I probably should. The terrified shriek she made when I opened that closet door keeps replaying in my head. Over and over. And every single time it does, something violent twists deeper inside my chest. Because now I know exactly what it feels like to think I’ve lost her, and I’ll slaughter armies of men before I ever feel that desperation again.
I rest my chin lightly on the top of Mackenzi’s head, staring out the darkened windows lining the sitting room. Floodlights illuminate the grounds outside as the sun fights its way over the horizon. Guards patrol at double-time, rifles strapped across their chests.
All this security… All this power… All these resources…
And they still almost got to her.
Rage simmers low and poisonous in my stomach. Not at the intruders, but athim. At the man currently racing back here, pretending to be a concerned father. My fingers flex against Mackenzi’s shoulder.
“What is it?” she asks, worried, as I try to comfort her. Before I can answer, headlights sweep across the front windows, and engines rumble through the circular drive.
Mackenzi lifts her head slightly, eyes swollen and red-rimmed. “Are they back?”
I don’t answer right away because suddenly all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears.
Gunnar called them—Hawk, Jagger, and the ambassador—the second the threat was neutralized. They left immediately.
Rage is no longer simmering beneath my skin; it’s boiling. I carefully loosen my hold on her, and her fingers tighten in my shirt.
“Daddy…”
“I’ll be right back, trouble,” I insist quietly. “I promise.”
Hesitation flickers across her face.Is she scared of being left alone?The realization guts me for half a second, because she shouldn’t feel like this. She shouldn’t feel unsafe in her own home. She shouldn’t look at me like I’m the only thing standing between her and her entire world collapsing. But she does. Reluctantly, she lets go of my shirt.
As I stand, fiery rage floods every inch of me, violence barely leashed beneath my skin. I stride out of the sitting room toward the foyer, and my boots thud against the marblefloors. Every step feeds the anger burning hotter in my chest.
The front doors swing open when I reach them. The ambassador steps in first, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, looking composed despite the urgency of his return. Hawk follows behind him, with Jagger bringing up the rear. The ambassador calls out, “Mackenzi?”
Hawk stares at me as I approach, quickly registering the look on my face. One he has seen too many times. “Dam?—”
My fist slams into the ambassador’s jaw with enough force to snap his head sideways before Hawk can finish. The crack of impact echoes through the grand foyer as the pathetic excuse of a man stumbles backward and collapses to the marble floor. For one savage second, satisfaction tears through me so hard it nearly snuffs out my anger.
Almost.
“You fucking son of a bitch!” I explode through the house.
It’s not enough. Not even fucking close.
I lunge before anyone can react, grabbing a fistful of his suit jacket and driving him onto his back, straddling his waist, and slamming another punch across his face. Blood splatters across his lip.
Years of combat training make every hit precise, brutal, and efficient. I want to break him. I want him to feel even a fraction of the terror Mackenzi went through tonight.
