“Let’s try this one more time, shall we?”
“Stay back.”
“We are going to have a little conversation. And you are going to participate this time.”
“He won’t let you get away with this.”
“Oh, I’m sure Ransome will protectyou.” His smirk widens, sharp and cruel. “But he can’t protect everyone you care about.”
I think back to Gianni. My brave, reckless little brother whose death could easily be made to look like an accident. I think about Eliza—smart, responsible Eliza—and everything she’s had to endure to keep the family afloat from within.
I think about Bella, who’s not even eighteen yet.
And I think about the way Ransome left me on my own today, when I needed his protection the most.
“So,” Tristan drawls. “What’s it going to be, sweetheart?”
55
RANSOME
The gunshots may not have been fired by Tristan, but the bullets have his name written all over them.
As I drive back to the penthouse to be with Amara, I remind myself that what I told Mav and Baron is right. Sure, I could have left Yury thumbless and bleeding, but that would be like opening a cage before I’m ready for the hounds.
I have to be smarter than that. If we go to war, it has to be when we’re fully armed. Not to mention for the right reasons.
In other words, I need to bepakhanfirst. Then, I can take Tristan down without any resistance.
Do I like that my walking out looked like a white flag? Of course not. But Tristan is going to find out I was there. And he’s not going to like it.
And I will deal with that encounter accordingly.
When I get to the penthouse, the door is unlocked. I’m not exactly pleased with that.
“Amara?” I call out as I close the door behind me. She’s pacing by the window and rushes over to me, throwing her arms around me. “Why is the door unlocked?” I ask.
“The code was messed up,” she says, trembling in my arms.
That’s odd. I’ll have to shoot Ivan a text to see if he knows anything about it.
But what stuns me most right now is Amara’s behavior. Is she still this shaken up from the shooting? Has she been crying and trembling alone all this time?
Should I have been here?
No. Of course not. There were priorities to keep track of, and I had mine straight. I know I did.
Then why do I feel so goddamn awful?
“Why didn’t you come straight home?” she asks, still buried in my chest, as if reading my mind.
“I had things to attend to. People.”
“But we just got shot at!” she cries out.
“Exactly. Baron and Maverick and I went to look for Tristan.”
Amara pulls back a little, tipping her chin to look up at me. Her face is drained of color. “Did you find him?”
