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“Fuck,” I hiss when she laughs again, the low murmur of Dante’s deeper voice filtering through the ceiling too.
It’s worse than being forced to endure the sound of her moans the day I watched her touch herself on the security cameras, and I don’t even know why.
I bite out another low curse, then angrily flip through the security feeds, reviewing the visuals for all the monitored locations within our stronghold. Our home. What used to be a sanctuary before she invaded it.
But flipping through them is pointless. I can’t see her. Anything could be happening up in Dante’s studio right now.
I narrow my eyes, dozens of dangerous scenarios running through my mind. It’s intolerable that I don’t have access to the visuals I need. When we installed the security system, Maddoc’s decree about keeping cameras out of our individual private areas in the house made sense.
Now, I’m not so sure.
Riley was upset earlier, and understandably so. Capside is a vicious organization, and McKenna sending her sister in for the drop almost guarantees that the girl won’t come back out in one piece. Not that it makes any fucking difference to me. It’s as meaningless as the fact that Riley trusted my insight about it earlier.
I don’t care whether or not this particular woman relies on me for guidance about what her sister might be facing.
I don’t care that she’ll never laugh for me the way she is for my brother right now.
And I definitely don’t care if she ever looks at me with anything other than fear.
Sheshouldfear me, hate me, hate the monster that I am… the same way I do. The same way I hate her. That I hate all of this.
I trust Maddoc in most things, but he isn’t infallible, and letting this woman fracture our brotherhood is a fucking mistake that he just can’t see yet.
Riley laughs again, and I grit my teeth so hard my jaw starts to throb.
It’s a good thing I don’t have cameras up there. If I did, it would be my duty to watch, to monitor her, to make sure she’s not causing even more disruption at a time when none of us can afford to be distracted.
I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling to try to regain control. When that doesn’t work, I tap several keys on the keyboard in quick succession, turning off the feeds for the security system for the first time since I installed it.
I’m obviously too weak-willed to keep myself from this obsession I’d like to deny, but the least I can do is not feed my addiction right now. I know the cameras will still record even though my monitors are dark. Alarms will be tripped if there’s anything that needs my attention. So what I should do, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else, is take myself away from the temptation to… listen.
But I don’t.
I hold my breath, ears straining as I try to guess what’s going on upstairs.
It’s silent long enough that my lungs start to strain, and when I finally let out the air I’m holding, immediately sucking in another breath as my lungs burn, I realize to my complete frustration that my cock is hard again. My hands have curled into fists, my muscles tense and straining as if they either want to fuck or fight.
I can’t do either, but I force each of my muscles to unclench, one at a time, then reach for my noise-canceling earphones and put them on.
There’s no way to fight, and fucking isn’t an option. Not for me, ever. And not for any of us when it comes to Riley, per Maddoc’s orders… so whatever the fuck Dante is doing with her up there, he’d better not be sticking his cock inside her.
Jealousy rears up inside me, roaring like a lion, but I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know why it’s even there, clawing at the inside of my chest. I’ve never even fucked a woman, so why should I care if it’s Dante up there breaking the rules and not me?
Focus on something else.
Extracting Chloe.
Researching Capside.
Anything.
I start by methodically going through every bit of intelligence we were able to glean from the bug I planted, then lose another few hours tracking down the city’s planning information on the area, including schematics of the drop-site building and the surrounding neighborhood.
Time ticks away steadily as I fall into the reassuring rhythm of machine-like efficiency I’ve perfected over the years, one that leaves no room for messy emotions. I access satellite data, analyze ways in and out of the area, identify good vantage points and blind spots, and then map out ways to make an escape and plot routes we can employ if we need to call in backup from the organization.
It’s well into the night before I get to the most rewarding part—pulling it all together into a plan that will maximize our chances of success.
By the time dawn brightens my bedroom window, I’ve calculated how much accelerant will be needed to get a proper fire going, one that will efficiently burn down the building where the drop is scheduled to go down, and arranged for that. I’ve also put other safeguards into place, ensuring, as I always do, that those few people I care about in this world will be as protected as possible.
