Silence.
“Shame. This is getting messy.”
Breathe. Rowan made a loop, coiled it up, tried it out.
The throw fell short of the intended stapler, but with a little more wrist…
Alden stood up and pointed the gun. Probably to pin him down and make a run for it.
Now or never.
Rowan stood, swung the coil, once, twice, the shot pinging past him?—
And threw.
Alden caught the loop and laughed, wrapping his wrist around the length. “What kind of stupid are you?”
This kind.
Rowan yanked, hard, and the movement caught Alden, threw him off-balance, tangled him into the desk enough for Rowan to charge. Alden stumbled forward and his shot went wild as Rowan tackled him around the waist.
Rowan drove them both into the windows that overlooked downtown Renegade.
The glass held, but the impact slammed the breath from Alden’s lungs. Rowan grabbed his wrist and hammered it, once, twice against the glass. The pistol skittered across the floor.
Rowan kneed him, then sent his fist into the man’s face.
Blood erupted in his destroyed nose.
It only incensed Alden. He slammed his fist into Rowan’s gut, but yeah, not a problem. Tried it again, and Rowan grabbed him around the throat with one hand, deflected his arm with the other.
“You destroyed my family,” Rowan snarled, pinning Alden against the window. “You terrorized my mother. You tried to murder my son.”
“I made you strong,” Alden gasped, clawing at Rowan’s hand. “Everything you are, you owe to me.”
“I owe you nothing.”
Rowan’s other hand found Alden’s throat, and—oh, ending it would be so easy. One squeeze. One final payment for twenty years of debt.
“And what about Mack?” Alden wheezed. “What happens to my son when you murder his father?”
The words hit Rowan like cold water. Mack.
His half brother, who’d grown up believing Alden was a good man. Who’d defended him, protected him, loved him despite everything.
I won’t hurt him. The promise he’d made.
Oops. Maybe he should amend that to…I won’t kill him.
But even that…Because Alden’s pale-blue eyes held no remorse, no recognition of the lives he’d destroyed. Only calculation, even now looking for an angle to exploit.
Rowan’s grip tightened.
“Hammer.” Saxon’s voice cut through the red haze. “Breathe.”
Rowan didn’t turn, didn’t release his hold on Alden’s throat, but felt Saxon’s presence as he came into the room—calm, steady, the voice of reason in a situation that had spiraled, yes, beyond his control.
“Does he deserve it?” Saxon asked quietly.
