“The only reason you’re leaving here alive,” I growl, voice low and lethal, “is so you can deliver this message to Adrian. Tellhim I’m disappointed. If this pathetic attempt is his best effort to keep me out of the Society, he needs to do much better.”
I shove him away. He stumbles, nearly falls, then scrambles into the darkness like the rat he is.
I glance down at the deep cut across my abs. It burns like hell, blood soaking through my shirt. I press my hand against it and head to my car. Before I drive off, I call Viktor.
“Send a cleanup crew to the office. There’s a mess outside, some of our friends came visiting and they made a huge mess.”
Viktor’s voice sharpens with concern. “On it. The office is due for maintenance anyway.”
He knows we can't discuss details on the phone except when using a burner phone, and I'm currently calling him from my main line.
“Good. Let me know when it's done.”
I hang up looking down at my bleeding side, and let out a low chuckle. It’ll take more than a bunch of idiots to take me down. It's a good thing Adrian keeps underestimating me.
One thing I've learned in this world is that being underestimated is good, it gives you the upper hand.
When people think you're weak, they make mistakes. They fail to prepare for what you’re truly capable of. And by the time they realize they’ve misjudged you, it’s already too late.
Adrian just made a huge mistake. And he's bound to make more.
When I finally pull up to the estate and step out, more blood seeps through my shirt and I press my hand against it. I walk into the living room, expecting silence.
Instead, I find my little wrecking ball of a fiancée waiting for me.
The moment Calina sees me, she explodes.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snaps, storming toward me. “Why did you have my things moved into your bedroom without even asking me? We had an agreement! You said you wouldn’t touch me until after the wedding.
“And even then, I told you I’m not sleeping with you! And now you just decide to move all my stuff in there like I have no say? The maids wouldn’t even move it back because they’re terrified of you. What kind of man are you?”
She keeps going, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger, hands gesturing wildly. She’s magnificent like this, all fire and fury, no fear.
Despite the burning pain in my side and the blood soaking my shirt, I can’t help it.
I smile.
A real, slow smile.
She’s standing there yelling at me in my own house, completely unafraid, and all I can think about is how fucking beautiful she looks when she’s mad. How alive. How mine.
“As much as I’d love to have this conversation with you right now,” I say, voice low, “this isn’t the time.”
But Calina doesn’t stop. She keeps rattling on about how we are going to have this conversation now. Then her gaze drops to my side, where my arm is pressed against the wound. Her words cut off mid-sentence.
Her eyes widen. “Is that… blood?”
I glance down at my blood-stained hand and the dark wet patch on my shirt. “Yeah.”
Her face changes instantly. “Is it yours?”
I look at it again, pressing my hand tighter against the cut. “Most certainly feels like it is.”
Before I can say anything else, she surprises the hell out of me by rushing to my side, eyes wide with genuine concern. “Whathappened? Is it bad? How did it happen? You need to have it checked right now?—”
“There’s no need to act all concerned and pretend like you care,” I mutter, even as a strange warmth spreads through my chest.
She smacks my arm, right above the wound and I hiss through my teeth.
