Page 82 of His Ruthless Queen

“So, have him stop them,” I say. “Shoot out the fucking tires for all I give a shit. They’re not coming here.”

Saoirse can’t see me like this.

“They’re already here, is what Callum isn’t saying, man,” Corbin calls as he slams on the brakes. My head snaps to the side, hitting something.

I don’t focus on that pain, though. How can I, when blind rage is surging through me? She deliberately went against my orders. She’s here. My chest puffs, the rise and fall with each breath ragged, as a shield of black covers my vision and blurs into nothingness.

“Here,” Corbin shouts.

The van comes to a horrifyingly screeching halt. I scramble to my feet, rushing toward the back doors. They swing open, and I stumble out, trying to catch my balance. The plane is directly ahead, the doors down. A flash of brown hair shoots down the stairs, heading straight for us. Haley’s in front of me before I catch sight of the bratty redhead who’s going to feel my wrath for this.

Haley’s hands press down on either side of the wound, firm and inspecting. “Could be worse,” she mumbles.

“Aye. Could be,” Callum says from behind me, his voice hard and punishing. “What are you doing here, lass?”

Haley doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t even tense as she continues to inspect the knife. “Callum, we will argue about this later. Right now you should be thanking me for being here.” She looks past me. “Help him on the plane so I can get a better look at this.”

She steps aside, and Saoirse’s arms wrap around my neck, her head falling against my shoulder. I don’t hold her to me, even though the desperate need to touch her is begging me to. I don’t respond, remaining stiff as she continues to hold me tight. My response will be too harsh, and I’m not about to yell at her in front of a group of people.

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asks Haley. Her nails drag along my jaw, and I tense beneath her touch. “Scotty? Talk to me. Please.”

I hate the sadness in her voice, but I hate that I can’t trust her to keep a promise even more. I didn’t make her stay in Boston just to be a dick. It was for her safety.

“Get on the plane, Saoirse,” I manage to grit out.

Her hands leave their hold around my neck, and she steps back. I still haven’t looked at her. I refuse, because the urge to strangle her is too high. My jaw ticks, and if there wasn’t a knife in my side, I’d drag her up the stairs, into the plane, and onto the bed to press my fingers around the pulse points in her neck.

I’d make her beg for mercy, then I wouldn’t fucking give it to her. She doesn’t deserve it. I walk past her, her shoulder brushing my arm. I ignore the way my body wants to lean into her, ignore the way I’m drawn to her, and I head for the plane.

I’m not fucking dealing with this right now. Maybe once I cool down, though I don’t think I will ever calm down. Not if she continues to disobey me, continues to ignore the boundaries I set. There is no give and take here. I tell her to do something, I fucking expect her to do it.

Because she’s mine, and I protect what’s mine. Even if that means I have to keep her locked away. It’d break her spirit, but at least she’d be safe. At least she wouldn’t be hurt.

I sit on the crisp white leather couch, letting out a huff. Haley sits beside me, first aid kit in hand.

“Normally I’d say I need to X-ray before I pull it out, but I don’t think we’ve hit an artery,” she says. “And it doesn’t seem to be more than an inch deep.”

“So we’re gonna pull and pray,” I say.

Haley snorts. “Yeah. Something like that.” Her cold fingers press against my side, digging into my ribs. “I think it hit bone, but not an artery. I’ll stitch it up, and we will X-ray at home. Probably fractured the eleventh rib.”

I nod. “Just get it the fuck out.”

Saoirse sits beside me, her hand resting on my knee. I flinch, not wanting her warmth, or her scent near me. She’s too tantalizing and I’m too fucking angry. Her other hand rests on my shoulder, and I shake her free. I avoid sparing her a glance, knowing she’s probably wearing a wounded look on her face.

“Vlad?” Haley asks.

“Declan and Sean are driving him back to Boston,” Callum says.

“I want to see him,” Saoirse says.

“You will,” Callum promises.

Haley yanks on the knife and I let out a sharp hiss, inhaling with the sudden burn. Then the relief comes, even if only a minor reprieve. More blood splurts out, but she cleans it up and makes fast work of stitching me closed.

Corbin brings me a glass of whiskey, and I take it without hesitation, gulping it down in one swig. The burn hits my throat, taking away the thoughts of Saoirse and Vlad and the wound.

“And you,” Haley growls, pointing at Callum. “That cut above your eye better be the only injury.”

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