Rook’s jaw tightens with lethal annoyance. I don’t move, and his hands don’t leave my hips.
Mateo saunters in like he didn’t just blow apart something electric.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t apologize. He just slides through the door in a black t-shirt and dark jeans like sin got bored and decided to wear denim.
He’s still bruised faintly at the temple, a fading yellow near the hairline where he got clocked during Damien’s grab. He looks good with bruises. He knows it, too. His grin is feral, dark eyes glittering with something suspiciously like amusement.
“Interrupting?” he sing songs.
“Yes,” Rook says flatly.
“No,” I say at the same time.
Mateo laughs, delighted. “Perfect. Family meeting then.”
Rook’s hands tighten at my hips in warning. He doesn’t let go, but he leans back an inch, gaze slicing to Mateo. “If you don’t have something I want—”
“Oh,cariño,” Mateo purrs, “I have something you want.”
Rook goes still in a way that means something just clicked. “You found him.”
Mateo’s grin sharpens. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
My heart kicks. “Who,” I say, eyes snapping to Mateo even though I have a feeling I already know.
He turns that grin on me. God, he looks almost unhinged with how pleased he is. Hungry, smug and vibrating with the effort of not bouncing on his heels like a child.
“Hi,reina,” he coos. “I brought you a present.”
My mouth goes dry. “What kind of present?”
“The live kind.”
Rook’s entire body changes under my hands. Not looser, or calmer. Focused—like a predator sliding into final position. “Where is he?” Rook asks, voice taut.
“Wraith and Saint are bringing the van around now,” Mateo says, still high on the thrill of it. “Ash is already clearing the warehouse. I came to get you and the lady of the house.”
My skin prickles. “Marcus,” I say, realization flooding my veins.
Mateo practically glows. “Yes, love.Marcus.”
Heat hits my throat so fast I have to lock my knees to stay steady. “You went without me,” I say quietly, turning back to Rook.
His gaze flickers. “Ember—”
“You went without me,” I say again, sharper now.
Mateo lifts both hands, palms up, mock-surrender. “Before you get that look, we didn’t take him to play. We took him to deliver.Unopened. Promise.”
I glare at him. “That’snotthe point.”
“It’s a little the point,” he argues brightly. “You wanted him still breathing. He’sbreathing. Barely. But breathing.”
“Mateo,” Rook warns.
Mateo rolls his eyes. “Fine. Yes, okay, we went without you. Cry about it later. Throw me around a bit, punish me, whatever gets you off. We had to move fast.”
“Why,” I demand.
