ONE
FENRIR
PRESENT
I’m a trained killer.I can kill people with a simple bullet to the forehead, a quick cut to the femoral artery, or a powerful fist to the temple.But if looks could kill, there’d be a dead man at the bar right now.He’s wiry as fuck, with slicked-back hair and a tan that looks like it came out of a bottle.He has no business being in this bar—let alone on this earth—and I want nothing more than to bury him, but I have my orders, and dealing with him isn’t one of them… yet.
The starched white collar cuts into my neck, the fabric stretched tight across my pecs.It makes me look smart and in control, but I’m as uncomfortable as a madman in a straitjacket—and the asshole at the bar is doing nothing to calm my agitation.This isn’t attire I’m used to, not the terrain I’ve been trained for.The beat of the music in the club is so loud, I feel the bass reverberate off my ribs, like the bass player is strumming the strings across my chest.The lighting is dim, smoke swirling across the dance floor as if it’s guiding the clubbers on how to move.I can barely make out my hand in front of my face, but despite the poor visibility, I can seeher.
An avalanche of dark hair.
Beautifully luminous eyes.
Lips that so very rarely smile.
It’s a blessing that I have a licence to stare, to watch her intimately.It is, after all, my job.The only reason I’m here.
To keep her safe.
To keep her alive.
Taking a step forwards, a man knocks into me, his hands gyrating in the air to the infernal pound of the music.He turns, hackles raised, about to berate me for not watching where I’m going, even though he’s the one who is blind.
“Hey, man—” His words die on his tongue as he registers my gigantic stature, my immovable breadth, and if this isn’t enough, his eyes finally reach my face.His pupils expand when he clocks the scarring that runs up the left side of my neck and claws its way over my cheek.
His jaw drops as he holds his hands up in defence.“Sorry, man.My fault.”
I pay him no heed; his reaction is nothing new.My sights are on Hayami, who is perched on a stool, the slimy scumbag sitting opposite her, his greasy hand having found its way onto her upper thigh where the split of her dress exposes her like a gash.I see red, a thick bloodred as I march over to them.
“Fenrir.”Willa’s warning erupts through my earpiece, echoing against the sound of her voice not three feet to my left.“Don’t overreact.”
“Define overreacting,” I reply as I slam my fist into the scumbag’s face, sending him flying off the stool.
“What the…?”Hayami cries as Willa pulls her away from my fury.This isn’t the first time Willa has had to intervene when I’ve lost my head, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“You don’t touch her.No one fucking touches her.”Grabbing the dickhead by his shirt, I haul him to his feet.A tiny bead of blood pools at the corner of his lips.
“What the fuck?”the slimeball says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What the hell are you doing?”Hayami fights her way out of Willa’s hold.
“My job,” I spit, still eyeing the fucker as I cling onto the shoulders of his shirt.
“Your job?”Hayami shouts above the music.“Did it look like I was in danger, Beast?”Her hands are on her hips, the split of her dress having ridden further up her leg.
Reluctantly, I let go of the creep.
Seemingly recovered, he touches his mouth, surveys the blood on his hand, and laughs.I want to punch him so badly that my hand aches.
“I think we all just need to calm down,” Willa says, inserting herself between me and the cretin.“Everything is fine, Fenrir.”She glares at me with a look I’ve seen countless times before.“Hayami is fine, aren’t you?”she asks, glancing at Hayami for confirmation.
“Yes, I’m fine.Just trying to have a good time like a normal twenty-year-old until this fucking beast steamed in.”Hayami rolls her eyes.
“It’s okay,” Willa reassures her.“You can go back to having a good time.We’ll be here.”Willa places her hand on my chest, exerting a gentle push that, in normal people, would cause them to step back, but I don’t move, not even an inch, until she stares at me with pleading eyes that are asking me just to be a good dog and do as I’m told.
Although there’s no official hierarchy where Hayami’s bodyguards are concerned, Willa has been doing this far longer than I have, which means she has a degree of authority over me that I try to respect.
I swallow my fury as the fuckwit I just punched straightens his shirt and smirks before climbing back onto the stool like a little lord clambering back onto his pedestal.Even through my blaze of anger, I can’t help but be impressed by the guy’s resilience.Most men don’t stay within a mile of my presence when they see me, let alone laugh at me, but this guy is either very brave or extremely stupid.
