Maybe I still can.
I get to my feet, and without meaning to, my gaze snaps toRoan again. Several women have infiltrated his booth now, leaning close, touching his arm. Yet he’s watching me.
Always watching.
The sudden hiccup in my chest has me scowling, my eyes darting away as I make a beeline for the exit.
The cool night air hits like a balm and I inhale greedily, the sharp contrast to the bar’s warmth exactly what I need. I nod at the bouncers as their dark eyes sweep over me with casual disinterest.
Finally. Peace.
Beyond the club, the estate is quiet. Night has claimed the grounds, broken only by soft golden pools of light from decorative lamps scattered along the pathways. I glance around, my gaze tracing the neatly trimmed hedges, the shadowed archway leading to the garden—a garden Esma mentioned is a direct replica of the one Hana Përmeti used to keep when she was alive.
I turn onto the narrow path towards the maids' quarters, a shortcut Esma showed me, the pebbled walkway crunching softly beneath my sneakers. Just a few minutes and I’ll be back in my room where I can change and?—
Pain detonates across my spine, a brutal, blinding force that rips every bit of air from my lungs and sends me lurching forward. Gravel bites into my knees as I crash to the ground, agony radiating through my back in waves.
What the?—
My mind struggles to catch up, shock temporarily locking my muscles, suffocating my chest. Gasping, I twist to look behind me, every movement sending fresh lightning bolts down my spine.
A shadow looms over me—tall, broad, familiar in the worst possible way.
It’s the creep from the bar who can’t take no for an answer.
Shit.
4
ROAN
He’s going to follow her.
Even as the realization crystallizes, the bastard is rising from his seat and moving towards the exit, a dark storm cloud brewing over his face.
“Leave it be,” Dhimitër says from across the table, tracking my gaze with the kind of knowing look that comes from years of friendship. He can read my thoughts before I fully form them—a useful trait in a second-in-command, annoying as hell in a friend.
“He’s going to hurt her.” My hands ball into fists at the thought. I don’t know whatAtëwas thinking, hiring a civilian and bringing her onto the estate, but she’s here now. Under my protection.
“Then send someone else to deal with it,” Dhimitër replies.
But I’m already on my feet, shrugging off the feminine hand on my shoulder to Irena’s disgruntlement.
Send someone else? No. This ismyestate,mymen.
I’ll deal with it myself.
I pull my jacket back on as I head for the door, barely registering Dhimitër’s heavy sigh behind me. He’s getting to his feettoo, apparently, but I don’t give a shit what he does. He can stay here with the women while I deal with this for all I care—I don’t need backup to handle one drunk asshole.
The guards at the door snap to attention when I emerge, but I’m already moving past them, my strides eating up ground as I make my way towards the maids’ quarters where I’m hoping Mia went.
Then I hear it—the unmistakable sound of fist meeting flesh.
Motherfucker.Is he actually beating up a woman for rejecting him?
Rage floods my system, hot and vicious. I’m going to lock that son of a bitch in thefrigoriferfor twenty–four hours without water or food, and while he’s delirious from hypothermia, I’ll?—
I stop mid-stride, stunned.
