How tempting it is for predators to break her.
Men like him.
Or me.
The lecherous asshole grins and pats her cheek like she’s a petulant child, not a thirty-four-year-old woman.
He just signed his death warrant.
I imagine removing his hand from his body. I’m not the type to build gruesome shrines, but maybe today’s the day.
Or I can feed it to the rats—God knows there are too many of them in the city.
My blood boils, but I force myself to remain still because Elias Kent is anything but impulsive. I’m patient. Calculating.
Senators quake in my presence because I can end their careers with one call. The mafia, the Bratva, the Irish mob? I can destroy their supply routes because I control the very people who make them available.
Beneath a veneer of civility, these powerful men have an unhealthy penchant for young girls and questionable funds hidden inoffshore accounts. Bribery. Trafficking. Drugs. Every dark flavor of hell.
But I’m a dealer in secrets. I know them all.
The asshole leaves the table, and the waitress crumbles, tears sliding down her face. She scurries away. I fist my lighter and remember how helpless my sister was—how helpless this server girl looks.
Helpless no more, not if I can help it.
Huffing out a breath, Lana sits back down and writes on a piece of paper, her lips pursed with determination.
Despite the murderous rage coursing through me, I bite back a smile. She’s doing her thing again—writing kind notes to waitstaff to cheer them up in addition to leaving a hefty tip. She rummages through her purse, pulls out something small and metallic, and sets it on the table. She then leaves the café, only to come to an abrupt halt outside the door.
A calico cat wanders across her path.
She squeals, the bright smile making her even more ethereal. Clearly not caring about the gawking bystanders, she crouches and pats the cat, who twines its lithe body around her. She’s won over the cat too.
Lana murmurs to the feline, pointing to the café. The cat grazes her ankles and nuzzles Lana’s palm.
Damn cat. I can almost feel her gentle touch against my face.
You’re out of your fucking mind, Elias, being jealous of a cat.
After letting out a sigh, Lana says something to the feline. I can make out the words this time.“I wish I could take you home.”
A muscle spasms in the cavernous hole where my heart once was, and a ghostly whisper crosses my mind. A beautiful girl who once told me if it weren’t for her family being allergic to cats, she’d get one.
Lightning sears across the bloated sky, followed by the crash of thunder. Lana jolts, opens the café door, and ushers the cat inside.
She smiles and darts into a town car idling at the curb. She’s running late for work at Fleur Entertainment Holdings, her family’s company.
I grip the car door handle, my muscles aching from restraint, desperate to rush over, pull her from her car, and whisk her away.
But I stay put because my obsession is poison—an eternal addiction.
Her car peels off, and I force myself to release a deep exhale.
Ping.
Time’s up.
I shove my obsession into a small compartment where my deepest grief lives and open the other box containing the darkest day of my life. I see that day in snapshots—our sofa aflame, my parents sobbing, begging for mercy, Sofia whimpering as she’s hauled away, and baby Beatrice crying.
