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I want Austin’s blood to spill.
I want to see it spread across the concrete, adding some fucking color to this dark, dangerous world.
The tension is so thick it’s almost choking, and for a moment, I picture it so clearly, exactly the way Dante described it to me when we spoke of his art, that I almost think it’s actually happened.
A sound escapes me, not anything more than a faint puff of breath, but it breaks the stare-off between Austin and Maddoc, drawing Austin’s eyes to me like a vulture to rotten flesh. His gaze turns lecherous, and he draws in a deep breath, like he’s some kind of feral animal on the hunt.
“Wifey.”
The bastard draws out the word like he can taste it, a sick hunger in his gaze, and Maddoc snaps, surging forward and slamming his body into Austin’s. Somehow, Maddoc has the control and presence of mind not to draw his weapons, and his seconds follow his lead. It’s still violent enough to send Austin stumbling backward, a look of unfiltered rage on his features as his men scramble out of the way, leaving him sprawled on his ass.
“She’ll never be that to you, no matter what a piece of paper says,” Maddoc says in a strained, raspy voice. Then he turns his back as Austin pushes himself back to his feet, cursing almost loud enough to drown out the pounding of my heart as it surges up into my throat.
“That’syourdeath warrant,” Austin hisses as Maddoc grabs my arm.
“We’re leaving, butterfly,” Maddoc says to me, ignoring West Point completely as he stalks toward the SUV.
Dante and Logan close ranks behind us, protecting our backs, but I’m shaking with adrenaline, shocked to my core when we actually make it to the vehicle without anyone getting a bullet in the back.
Maddoc doesn’t let go of me, sliding into the back seat with me as Dante takes the wheel. He doesn’t speak until the engine starts up, and when he finally does, it guts me.
“I fucking hate that he married you.”
I swallow hard, tears springing to my eyes, but I hold his gaze anyway and lift my chin, because we’ve already had the conversation about me doing whatever I needed to while I was West Point’s captive—including marry their bastard of a leader.
I’m sure Maddoc knew that’s what Austin was planning for me the second I agreed to go with him. After all, it’s exactly what the Reapers planned to do before Maddoc and his seconds had a change of heart.
But a part of me is still disgusted that I allowed myself to be tied to Austin like that, even though I had no choice. To my shame, I feel tears sting my eyes before I can actually answer Maddoc.
His gaze instantly softens, and he pulls me into his arms. “It doesn’t fucking matter, butterfly. You’re not his.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ll never be his.”
I just nod, but he doesn’t let go and I don’t move away, and we pass the rest of the ride in silence. Once we’re back at the house, Maddoc is still obviously in his head, sorting out his feelings, and after giving his seconds some quiet orders about things that they need to take care of tonight, everyone splits up.
Maddoc heads to his office, and I give him his space, needing a little bit of my own.
I thought I’d already come to terms with the darkness I discovered inside me here. I’ve even found a way to twist it into something good, something deep and true that I share with all these men, something that binds us all closer in three unique ways.
Tonight, with Austin’s eyes moving over my skin like acid, I realized there’s something deeper inside me. Something even darker. Tonight is the first time I wanted blood on myownhands, and it wasn’t even about how sickened I am by Austin’s fixation on me. It was the threat to my men. He was goading them, and if it had worked, if Austin had made the Reapers retaliate in front of Saraven, I have no doubt at all that The Six would have taken Maddoc, Dante, and Logan out without blinking an eye.
I wanted—I still want—to kill him for that.
Instead, I decide being alone with my dark thoughts isn’t any better for me than it was for Logan last night, and I go to Maddoc.
He’s in his office, his back to the door and his eyes locked onto the map he keeps on the wall, each gang’s territory clearly marked out and a series of notations covering Halston’s familiar streets to indicate allies, enemies, and other designations I don’t understand.
He doesn’t turn around when I enter, so I circle his desk and stand in front of him, the bloodlust inside me calming, receding, just by being in his presence.
This is what I need. The reminder that it’s not our enemies that matter, it’s the fierce, burning love I feel for these men.
“Butterfly,” Maddoc says, his voice stiff and raspy from disuse. He reaches for my hair, twining the long strands of purple and blue around his fingers. Then he tugs me toward him.
I go willingly, settling on his lap. “He can do it,” he says, his eyes moving past me to the map again. “He can take apart everything I built. Break up our territory, piece by fucking piece.”
“You built it piece by fucking piece,” I remind him, cupping his jaw and bringing his eyes back to mine. “He can’t take anything apart that really matters.”
