A steel-toed boot slams into my jaw.
My skull snaps sideways, pain detonating behind my eyes. Blood floods my mouth. The world tilts. I’m on my back, limbs slow to respond.
“Arlo! That’s enough!” Arsen shouts.
She screams as he yanks her off me, her boot still swinging wildly, aiming for my throat. Her heel grazes my collarbone. I grunt, tasting blood.
“Let me go!”
Arsen’s arms lock around her waist, pinning her against his chest. His mouth drops to her ear.
“It’s done, firecracker,” he breathes. “Not the time or place.” He presses his lips to her temple, holds her like he’s done it a thousand times.
What the fuck?
My blood-slicked teeth grit as I spit red onto the pavement. Arsen—stone-cold, ruthless bastard Arsen—whispering Russian endearments and stroking her fucking hair?
She fights him, thrashing, trying to claw away.
“Arlo, please…” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “We need to go.”
Behind me, a thud—Raze hits the ground, shoved out the truck by Wolff.
“Fucking Christ,” he groans, chains clinking as he rolls onto his back. Wolff grabs a duffel from the truck and climbs out, gun still hot in his hand.
But I don’t stop watching Arlo. Arsen’s dragging her toward a black SUV tucked in the shadows. Her face is bruised, lip cracked, eyes full of hate as she screams at me.
He pushes her into the backseat as she fights him off, one last kick catching the doorframe. Her scream fades once he slams the door shut.
Wolff shoves me with the stock of his rifle. “Move.”
“Touch me again, and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”
His jaw ticks. “We don’t have time for this.”
“You better make time, K9,” I spit his call sign, blood dripping down my chin. “You want to keep all your fucking teeth? Start talking. Now.”
“Priest—”
I grab his vest and slam him against the truck. His shoulders tense, his whole body stiff at the contact. The fucker hates being touched.
“Don’t test me. You think just because you helped get me out, I won’t break your spine for keeping shit from me?”
He shoves me off, but I don’t move far.
“I don’t have all the details,” he grits out. “Arsen does.”
I stalk past him, blood in my mouth and fire in my chest, stepping over the corpses of Sovereigns.
Arsen’s standing by the SUV, arm still on the door. His gaze meets mine.
“I want answers. Now.”
“You’ll get them.”
“You better hope I do. Because if this is some game—if any of you are fucking with me?—”
He opens the SUV door wider. “Get in. We’ve got a long drive. And you’re going to want to hear everything.”
