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If she wants me.

“You freaking out?”

I shake my head. “Just glad I get to talk to the actual man in charge.”

“God, you’re a dick. Go back to being quiet.”

“Happily.” I stand, eager to get back to Sunday. She might only be on the other side of the door, but a lot can happen in a place like this.

“Oh, one more thing.”

I sigh and level a glare at Felton. “What?”

“I’m gonna need you to kill Sunday.”

Chapter 8

Cole

My skin feels like it’s doused in icy water, and my heart stalls as Felton’s words take root in my brain. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes as if her death inconveniences him. “Her dad got all heroic and tried to force one of my guys to tell him where she was. Long story short, he’s dead. She’ll end up kicking up a fuss about it, so it’s easier to get rid of her. It’s also a good way to prove yourself to Dad.” He searches my face, and I dip my hand into my pocket to wrap my fingers around my lighter. Sunday’s father is dead, and I war between grief for her and … relief. Fucking relief that the bastard is gone when he’s condemned her to this fate. “Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Good. Do it tomorrow, though. Might as well make the most of her while her body is warm. Breakfast?”

It’s times like these that I’m glad I’m known for my silence, because as we step into the hallway and Sunday meets my eyes, my words stick in my throat.

I have no choice now. I have to get her out, even if it risks blowing my cover, because I won’t watch her die.

Something tells me we won’t get far alone, though. Felton’s cars will have trackers, and going by foot would be reckless given that I have no fucking clue where we are. I also wouldn’t put it past the Maddox’s to have every edge of this land under heavy surveillance, so the likelihood is we probably wouldn’t even make it to the gate before we’re taken out.

All eyes are on us as we enter the dining room. A skylight bathes the room in sunshine, and the veranda doors are open to the pool area, a light breeze tickling my skin as we enter. A long, wooden table in the center of the room is filled with breakfast foods of all kinds. It would be an inviting setting if it weren’t for the guests.

The men are loud, talking over each other, a war of stories and braggart behavior that makes my skin crawl. Security and bodyguards are either standing behind their employer or at the edges of the room, nursing coffees and eyeing each other.

Felton sits at the head of the table, and I sit to his right. The seat across from me, usually occupied by a hungover Darcy, is empty.

I tug Sunday onto my lap, and she settles against my chest, her back to the other men, but that means she’s facing Felton. He watches her, a small smirk settled on his lips. “Did you and Cage have a good long talk last night?”

Sunday swallows. “Not really.”

“I could tell you about your date if you’d like, but it might scare you.” He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, and Sunday says nothing. I rest my hand on her hip, my other hand spooning fruit into a bowl. “You know, for the first six months of knowing this guy, I didn’t even see his face. Always wore his helmet. He’d show up, take the delivery, then go. And then…” He rests his elbow on the table and points at me. “Even when he showed his face, he didn’t speak for months after that.”

I slide the fork prongs into a slice of watermelon and lift it to Sunday’s lips. She waits a beat before opening her mouth and taking the fruit, chewing it slowly.

She swallows before speaking again. “Why would that scare me?”

I press gently into her back, a silent signal for her not to pry, but the question is already out there, and Felton is all too eager to answer.

“Because he hid his face for a reason, sweetheart,” Felton says, amusement glinting in his eyes. “He did more than deliver packages with his face covered.”

Pulsing blue lights, the beat of music beneath my feet. My helmet rocks from side to side on a brightly lit dancefloor. Gripping my cotton face covering, I pull it off, sweat clinging to my skin as I stare at the massacre at my feet.

My massacre.

“A story for another time?” Felton suggests, smirking. I ignore him and feed Sunday a slice of strawberry. “You’re making me think you want to keep her, Cage.” His gaze cuts behind me, and a smile spreads across his face. “Good morning, my love.”