“Howdareyou speak to me like that?” Catherine hissed at the older gentleman, who just sneered back at her. Every time I was around them, I understood more and more why they all had such an issue with the bond the guys and I shared. The older Delta generation straight up hated each other and must be constantly watching for knives in their backs.
“That’s enough,” Mr. Rothwell snapped, interrupting the pissing match between Catherine and Mr. Grant. “Rome doesn’t need to be here, so let’s just get on with it. Greg?” He nodded to Mr. Langham—Greg—who nodded back and clasped his hands in front of him.
“Delta council meeting is now in session.”
Those words seemed so damn innocent, but they must have been the trigger for what happened next. Before anyone could speak another word, a loud explosion sounded from the base of the building and the room shook. As far as I knew, Jefferson wasn’t on a fault line, so that was no earthquake.
We all glanced around, confused, until Catherine acted.
Faster than I thought I’d ever seen her move—faster than she’d slapped me that first day I’d arrived—she pulled a knife from inside her Dolce and Gabbana jacket and stabbed Mr. Grant through the side of his neck.
Frozen in shock, I watched as she wrenched the knife back out again, sending a massive arc of blood spraying across the table and splattering her own face in the process.
Chaos was breaking out all around me, and all I could do wasstare. Catherine grinned at me from across the table, blood dripping from her face and her white teeth flashing and right then I knew. Catherine was the one responsible for Oscar’s death. The look in her eyes as she grinned at me was so cold, so ruthless, so totally removed from sanity... she had zero issues murdering her children to get ahead in life.
And yet. There I sat. Fuckingfrozen.
Until a hard body slammed into me and knocked me to the ground.
“Butterfly!” Beck boomed from above me, “Snap out of it! We’re under attack!”
Dazed, I peered around me. Beck was hovering over me in a crouch, popping off shots from his Glock 19 every few seconds as shadowy figures appeared in his line of sight. The glass walls to the conference room were totally shattered and shit was going crazy.
“Sorry,” I gasped, scrambling out from under him and reaching for my own gun. “Catherine set this up. She murdered Dylan’s dad.” I was in shock, and repeating things we already knew.
Beck just grunted and shot another attacker dressed in black who tried to get close. The lights were flickering, probably damaged by that initial blast, and it was allowing our assailants the cover of shadows as they closed in on us.
“No wonder she was so pissed that my dad didn’t show up,” he replied to me, popping the empty clip from his gun and slamming a fresh one home. “She wanted to eliminate the entire board and heirs in one fell swoop. Ballsy bitch.”
From under the table, I could see bodies scattered around the room. Judging by the expensive wristwatches and signet rings visible, all three Delta board members were dead, along with several of our anonymous attackers. Huntley mercenaries, I’d be willing to bet.
“Are we okay here?” I asked Beck, pulling my own gun from the specially designed vest halter. “You guys can kick their asses, right?”
Beck grunted again, and a cold chill of fear ran through me.
“Watch out!” Dylan yelled from somewhere, and Beck covered me with his body just moments before another—smaller—explosion rocked the room. Dust from an obliterated wall kicked up in a storm cloud, and I needed to cover my nose and mouth with my blazer to keep from breathing it all in and choking.
“What the fuck?” I croaked, coughing and flapping a hand in front of my face to clear the air. “Did someone just throw a fucking grenade?”
Beck paused a moment, looking around before answering. “Yep.”
I spluttered. “I was joking! Fucking hell.” I shoved him off me again so that I could see more than just a pile of bodies and the back of Beck’s suit, but he put out an arm to hold me in place.
“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice all business. “Get under the table and stay out of sight. I need to help Jasper.” He shot me a serious look over his shoulder. “I mean it, Butterfly. Stay hidden. I’ll be straight back.”
I nodded. With grenades being thrown, bullets flying everywhere and Debitch knifing people in the neck, I really didn’t think it was the best time to be practicing my female empowerment and independence. I was easily the least capable fighter in the room, so yeah, there was no shame in doing exactly what Beck told me to.
In saying that, I wasn’t totally cowed into hiding. When I heard shouts and rapid gunfire not far from me, I poked my head out just in time to see Jasper break a guy’s neck, right before he got shot three times in the chest by another masked assailant. Beck popped out of nowhere and slammed his fist into the shooters face before dropping him with a headshot.
It was too late, though. Jasper’s body hit the ground with a sickening thump, and a horrified scream tore from my throat.
Stupid,stupidRiley!
That scream pulled Beck’s attention—because of course it did—and the next thing I knew, his head snapped back when the butt of an assault rifle slammed into his cheek.
“No!” I shouted, halfway clambering from under the table, my gun up and ready.
Without even fully comprehending what I was doing, my finger squeezed the trigger, and my bullet hit home in the forehead of the masked man who was about to shoot my boyfriend. The man dropped, dead, and Beck staggered back to his feet looking dazed and pissed right the fuck off.
