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Her voice, her skin, her scent.
“Here,” she says gently, gesturing to the seat next to her. “Sit here.”
I hesitate, my muscles going rigid.
It’s too dangerous, I might hurt her.
But Zaid and Lucas both look at me with a glance that says, you’ll hurt her if you don’t sit there.
Muttering a thank you, I move to sit next to her, aware of the heat radiating off her skin. I think she smiles at me, but I can’t quite see it because I won’t let myself turn to look at her. Her arm brushes against mine when she grabs a plate from Hale, and my traitorous cock stiffens again.
“As it turns out.” Lucas casts a teasing grin in her direction as he serves up the food. “Grace is not the best at cooking. But we managed just fine.”
She gives a gasp of mock offense. “We already discussed this. I never learned how to cook because my mother never taught me to cook. She was breaking the traditional gender roles society wanted to push me into.”
It’s a stretch, knowing Camilla Weston, but Grace is only joking. From everything I know about her, Camilla was one of the most traditional mafia wives in the syndicate. She was quiet and calculating, maintaining her house and supporting her husband in anything he did. Samuel adored her, despite the fact that she never gave him a son.
Zaid chuckles, opening his mouth to say something, but a noise from the front of the house stops him.
It’s not loud, but there’s something about the sound that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It sounds almost like a cry, like a weak scream.
“What the hell was that?” Lucas mutters.
Before the words are even out of his mouth, Hale and I are on our feet. Zaid and Lucas are up a second later, reaching for their weapons.
Acting as a unit, we fall into trained positions, guarding each other’s backs and sweeping the house, looking for the source. Security wasn’t triggered, which means the intruder isn’t hiding in the house, though they may think they’re clever by waiting at one of the doors for a surprise attack.
Staying silent and alert, Zaid cocks his head to the front door as we move into the foyer, keeping our guns aimed at the heavy wood.
Splitting up, the four of us position ourselves on either side of the door before Hale unlocks it and flings it open. I step to one side, my weapon raised as I scan for threats, but there’s no one standing in front of the door.
Then my gaze moves downward, and I realize exactly where the noise came from.
“Shit!” As Zaid moves to step out of the door, Lucas throws a hand out to stop his brother. “Look at that.”
I mutter a string of curses under my breath as we all take in the slaughtered dog on our front step, mutilated and bleeding out. It’s a fresh kill, and the sound we must have heard was its last cry for life.
But that’s not the worst of it.
As Zaid nudges the dead animal with his foot, already hunting for clues, the tag on its collar glints in the fading late evening sunlight. The name on the tag sends a chill down my spine.
Grace.
13
Grace
The sound that cut Lucas off sent a jolt of fear straight through me. It was the sound of pain and fear laced with death.
It was almost scary how quickly the guys fell into warrior mode, snapping into their positions as if we weren’t all just joking around seconds ago. There were weapons in their hands before I even had a second to register that something was wrong. They stalked out of the dining room like trained soldiers, leaving me alone with five steaming plates of food.
My heart thunders in my chest as adrenaline spikes in my veins. Alone, I don’t know what to do. I feel a bit like I should grab a weapon myself and join them. Like I should have their backs.
Do something, Grace.
I hear them stalk through the house quietly, their feet turning in the direction of the front door and hesitating. As I rise from my chair, the door clicks open, and their murmured curses are lost in the shuffle of their feet.
I hesitate with my hand on the edge of the dining room table, straining my ears for any hint of what’s going on. When there are no sounds of gunshots or a fight, I take a few steps into the foyer.
