I forced a tight smile, clapping the nearest one on the shoulder. “Yes, yes.”
But inside, a storm raged.
No way in hell would I share her.
I had already shared her enough tonight—watched another man’s hands roam where only mine belonged.
And once I claimed heragain?—
She would know.
She would remember.
She was mine.
I hurried past the guards, my pulse pounding, my focus singular.
Then—
A man doubled over on the plush carpet, writhing, moaning in agony.
I slowed, taking in his curled form, his hands clutching his groin.
“Did a woman with hair the color of flames do this to you?”
His pained expression twisted into a sneer. “Yes, she’s a whore.”
My teeth clenched.
I drove my boot into his ribs hard enough to make him gasp.
“My wife is no whore.” My voice was calm, deadly. “You probably put your hands where they don’t belong.”
He groaned, curling in on himself.
I stepped over him and kept moving.
The corridor ahead was empty.
I moved carefully, pressing my ear to each door, listening.
Nothing.
Then—
At the last door, a faint noise.
A subtle scraping sound, like furniture shifting against wood.
My pulse quickened.
Olivia.
She was here.
And she was searching for something.
Maybe—just maybe—she was after the Sun Dagger, too.
