I should have carried her to her own room last night, after she fell asleep on the couch. Instead, she sought me out, pressing her face against my chest, one leg sliding between mine.
I stayed still for a long time, just listening to her breathe. Then I gave in and wrapped my arm around her. It felt… right. Too right.
And this morning? When I woke up hard as steel and she wiggled against me… fuck. I wanted nothing more than to roll her beneath me and sink into her.
The comment about other women was purely to poke at her. I haven’t wanted another woman since the moment I took her. No one else even registers anymore. Only her.
That realization terrifies me.
This was never supposed to be more than a marriage of convenience. An alliance. A way to secure my power. I keep reminding myself of that, over and over. I don’t do love. I don’t need it. Love is weakness.
Yet here I am, thinking about her constantly. Wanting her. Craving the fire in her eyes and the way she challenges me.
I step out of the building into the cool night air, loosening my tie as I head toward my car. Something feels off immediately. My gut twists, that primal instinct I’ve honed over years screams at me.
The parking lot seems too quiet. Eerily so.
Usually, my men are patrolling the perimeter. Tonight, there’s no movement. No familiar silhouettes. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I reach for the gun tucked at my waistband.
Before my fingers even brush the hilt, pain explodes at the back of my head. A heavy blow sends me stumbling forward. Then they’re on me, four, five, maybe six men pouring out from the shadows like rats.
I roar and fight like a cornered animal.
I slam my elbow into the first attacker’s face, feeling cartilage crunch. I spin and drive my fist into another’s throat, dropping him gasping. A blade slices across my side, but I don't register the pain. I grab the wrist, twist hard until it snaps, and ram my knee into his stomach.
They’re trained, but I’m better. I’ve killed men with my bare hands since I was a teenager. I headbutt one, breaking his nose, then drive a punch into another’s jaw so hard I feel teeth shatter.
But there are too many.
One gets behind me and wraps a thick arm around my throat, choking me. Another punches me in the ribs while a third presses a knife to my side.
“Tell us about The Pantheon,” the one choking me snarls. “Who are the members? What are the rules? Talk, you bastard!”
I realize with a surge of fury what this is.
Some old-fashioned, archaic initiation bullshit. They’re testing me. Trying to see if I’ll break under pressure before they let me fully in.
I hate this outdated shit. This isn’t the fucking dark ages. Without any shadow of doubt, I know this is Adrian’s doing.
Rage explodes through me. I slam my head back into the man’s face, once, twice, until his grip loosens. I rip the hidden gun frommy waistband and put a bullet in his head. Blood sprays hot across my face as he collapses gurgling.
I turn on the rest like a demon.
I shoot one in the eye, then aim for his neck. I break another’s arm and put a bullet in his heart. The last two come at me together. I dodge, grab one by the hair, and slit his throat with his own knife, while kicking the other in the knee, causing him to fall.
In less than a minute, five bodies lie dead or dying around me.
Only one man remains, crawling backward, eyes wide with terror.
I stand over him, chest heaving, covered in blood, blade dripping in my hand.
“Adrian sent you right?” I growl, voice low and lethal.
He nods frantically. “Please… don't kill me…” He whimpers.
I grab him by the collar and yank him up. He’s whimpering, eyes wide with terror as blood drips down his face.
