And that ache in my chest returns.
Not rage. Not lust.
Something worse.
Something I can’t kill.
It burns low, deep—carved into my ribs. An echo of something I’ve never felt before.
I don’t know what the fuck it is.
But it doesn’t stop.
Doesn’tgo away.
My hand finds her lower back. Her skin’s warm. Soft. My fingers drag over the shallow dimples, tracing them like I’ve done a thousand times in my head since the first time I saw them. Perfect. Every fucking inch of her is perfect.
I keep my palm there, grounding myself in her body, in the silence she gives me.
I don’t move.
Don’t let go.
Even when sleep starts to take me, I fight it—just to stay in this moment a little longer. Because for the first time in my life…
I don’t feel hollow.
I’ve been staring at the nightstand so long my eyes burn.
My necklace is sitting there. The chain’s been fixed. Clasp repaired.
And next to it?—
A fucking gold tooth. Still caked in blood.
How fucking dare he.
What the fuck is this even supposed to be? A sick apology? A trophy to remind me of what he’s capable of?
The anger inside me flares.
I shoot out of bed before I can think better of it, my hand already on the doorknob. Multiple male voices drift through the bunker. Arsen told me more Sovereign were on the way, I’m not ready for new faces. But my anger outweighs my fear, so I yank the door open and storm out, heading straight for the voices.
The living room quiets the second I storm in. Seven men—huge, scarred, tattooed, killers.
I scan the faces, stopping when I see Priest. He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, a glassof whiskey dangling from his fingertips. Watching me like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“You fucking bastard.”
He doesn’t respond. Or react. Just stares at me with those dark blue, piercing eyes. I storm across the room. My hand lifts before I can stop it.
But he’s faster.
His fingers tightly clamp around my wrist.
“Careful, kitten,” he says, dragging me down until I crash into his lap. Straddling his thighs. Caged in by his body. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself more.”
His lips brush my palm.
