“Luckyyou,” I snort before I can stop myself.
D’s eyes snap to mine, suddenly cold. “Lucky?” he growls. “ThePakhangave me purpose. A family.”
“Yeah, a family that uses you as their attack dog,” I shoot back, the words tumbling out before I can think better of it.
Fuck. Shit. Great job, Wren. You and your fucking mouth.
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. D’s expression hardens, his eyes turning to flint. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he snarls.
“Sure,” I drawl, unable to stop myself. “Because chosen family is so much better when they train you to kill, right?”
I’m such a fucking bitch.
Apologize.
No.
Just say sorry, you idiot.
Fuck that.
I grab my glass, taking a long swig of water to shut myself up. Across the table, D’s gone still. Too still. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking. His fingers wrap around his glass, knuckles white. For a second, I think he might shatter it. Or my skull.
His chest rises and falls with sharp, controlled breaths. Eyes locked on mine, dark and dangerous. Like he’s deciding what to do with me.
Then suddenly, D pushes back from the table. His chair scrapes against the floor, the sound harsh in the tense silence. Without a word, he grabs the clothes he’d discarded nearby, yanking them on with jerky movements.
I watch him, my heart pounding. I’ve royally fucked this up, haven’t I? Whatever… thing… was happening between us, I’ve just killed it dead.
D stalks to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. He turns back, his eyes cold and distant. “I’ll make sure you can leave by tomorrow,” he says, voice flat.
The door slams behind him, leaving me alone in the sudden silence. The soup in front of me has gone cold, forgotten.
I stare at the closed door. My chest feels hollow. Empty.
Why do I feel like I’ve just lost something I never even had?
34
Dimitri
Erik twirls his knife, the blade dancing between his fingers as he lounges in a leather chair that belongs more in a high-end strip club than a meeting room. The massive screen on the wall flickers to life. Luka’s face pops up, looking like a fucking travel brochure.
“Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader,” I growl, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Nice tan,brat. Planning on entering a surfing competition?”
Luka’s lips quirk up in an infuriatingly calm smile. “Jealous, D? You look like shit.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, but there’s no real heat behind it. He’s not wrong. Two weeks of non-stop hunting has left me ragged.
Erik snorts. “Ladies, you’re both pretty. Can we get on with it?”
I flip him off. He just grins.Suka.
“So,” Luka says, leaning back in his chair.
The fucker looksrelaxed.
“What do we know about these Skull Collectors?”
