My eyes rake over her face—the three freckles on her cheekbone, the cut in her lip that looks a day old, to the splatter of blood over her neck that soaks her hair. I smirk nastily. Flicking a strand over her shoulder, I wink. “So do you.”
She flips a knife from God knows where and levels it against my throat, her dainty hand grabbing my dark locks. The bite of pain is refreshing as she pulls my neck taut, blade pressed deeply. Grinning, I have to stop myself from gutting this little girl; the desire so thick it practically chokes me.
“Let’s makeonething clear,” she hisses, nose brushing my jaw. She’s a fucking tiny thing, barely thirteen, but with balls of steel. “I don’t like you. I don’t want you in my house. You’re only here because myfatherlet you in.”
“What is this? A pissing contest?” I laugh as she tugs on my hair again. “You want Daddy all to yourself, Princess?”
“Don’t call me that,” she growls. “He might have let you in, but I don’t have to like it. Or be nice to you.”
“Like it or not,Princess, I’m here all the same. You’re going to have to just get used to it.”
She smiles, her eyes glinting the same way her father’s—mine do.
Oh, I’ve read this situation all wrong.
She’s not some meek princess stuck in the king’s palace. She’s a queen in waiting. A predator in a small body, with bruised knuckles and a smile that wants to rip my throat out.
She’s going to make thisreallyfun.
“And you’re going to have to get used to me.” Her wrist twitches, and I gasp as she moves away. The gasp quickly turns into a dark laugh as I touch my throat, fingers stained red.
She fuckingcutme.
“You get one warning: touch my siblings, do anything I don’t like, and Iwillkill you.”
She brushes past me, and I grin wider, enjoying this new development. I figured this gig would be one night to fill my belly and run. Get away from ever seeing my father again, and try to contain this darkness in my soul.
But this girl? She disrupts my plans. A teen girl wielding a knife who threatens an older kid after killing three men? Either she’s brave, or too stupid to know better.
Regardless, I plan on staying, if only to piss her off.
“Is that a threat, Princess?”
“It’s a promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
That smile drips with poison as she winks. “Oh, this is a promise I’ll certainly keep.”
1
KILLIAN
18 MONTHS AGO
“Last one.”
Rotating my shoulder, I hide the flash of pain behind my usual bland mask and take the offered paper. Everything aches, my fingers throb, and my back is a mess, but I refuse to show weakness. Especially here—especially now.
Ferguson looks on, chewing the cigar perched between two lips. Those calculating eyes have dulled with age, and the gray at his temples has overtaken the brown. No longer a man of strength, old age and a sedentary lifestyle have caught up with him.
But he sees everything. I have to be careful.
Lazily, I turn my attention to the computer-typed words and stop myself from withdrawing my black curved knife in agitation.
Another name. Another contract.Anotherfucking proposal.
Jesus Christ, will he ever stop?
