Our cargo.
Our men.
Our fucking territory.
My. Territory.
I’ll be damned if I let him take everything we’ve drained our blood, sweat, and tears into, which means finding the imposter he’s implanted in our walls.
Anyone will betray you when the price is high enough—when the gains outweigh the losses, the gamble is worth the risk.
In their case, I hope it was worth the fucking risk, considering Luciano took out one of our top locations and has his vile hands on our biggest shipment of the year. Which is why ever since our wheels left the ground, dark blonde waves have weaved through the red blanketing my vision.
My little rat might be a mole.
And if this bloodshed is on Kate’s hands, the last words she’ll speak are her begging for her life through the air I’m robbing her of as I grip her gold chain in my hand and tighten it around her pretty little throat.
The gurneys with men who are clutching limbs and struggling to keep their hearts beating are rushed inside, while some of my other guys limp through the doors. The medical center was alerted a few hours ago through the alarm system. When I enter, the medical staff are flying from one side of the room to the other, taking my men to rooms and attending to the most critical injuries. The entire place is abuzz with chaos, but my radar is zeroing in on one person.
I swear to fucking God, if she’s not here…
My footsteps are heavy as I march through the waiting area, as if I can somehow feel her presence bubbling under my skin. As I enter the hallway with doors to the patient rooms, I toss open the first door, but it's someone else wrapping the arm of one of my men. I throw open the next one, but she’s not in there either.
Her name is a growl in my chest.
A curse on my tongue.
Intoxicating rage consumes me as I barge through the second-to-last door at the back of the building near the surgery room.
As if she’s as affected by my presence as I am by hers, Kate’s shoulders stiffen. She’s monitoring one of my men’s vital signs when he registers the look on my face. Luckily, his injuries are minor. There are bruises on his arms and a gash cutting through his chin that will need stitches and leave a scar—just another story to mark his skin like the rest of us. Without a word, he stands and scurries out of the room, leaving us alone.
I shut the door, ensnaring the rodent with my presence as my rage charges the room. The fear radiating off her is palpable. So sweet and potent that I’m eager for her to face me.
When she does, I’m nearly knocked off balance by how beautiful she is. Her round face is brighter, a sign she’s gotten rest since I’ve been gone. Her long, slightly curled hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, looking so much lighter than it usually is against her black scrubs.
The swells of her cheeks are vibrantly painted a beautiful rose that pops against the ghostly color of the rest of her face. Her green eyes fix frantically on mine.
I don’t want to come clean about how often I’ve thought about her while I’ve been gone. How the vision of her absentmindedly wiggling the perfect swells of her round ass against my erection when I gifted her that collar was on a rotating track. Then I spiraled, wondering what it would’ve felt like to shove those tight shorts around her ankles and use my dick to test if she was as wet as I thought she was. Those manifestations fell behind my eyes as I languidly stroked my cock, drawing out my release. A release that wasn’t fucking satisfying in the slightest because it wasn’t her cunt gripping my cock like I imagined.
Seeing her now reminds me of how distracted and unhinged she makes me. How dangerous she is to everything I’ve worked so hard for.
She’s obliterating my control.
Robbing me of my fucking sanity.
Exactly like he wants.
I barely recognize my voice. “You’re not going to run?”
Her lips part, and I track the movement. Her gulp is audible over the thrashing in my chest. “Why would I run?” She studies my face, then her focus instantly falls to my shoulder. “Preston, you’re bleeding.”
My pace is deliberate as I stalk toward her slowly. She instinctively tries to retreat, but her back hits the paper covering the treatment table. “I suggest you carefully consider how you answer my next question, or I’ll add another name to the list of the dead.”
She audibly sucks in a breath.
I tilt my head. “What did he promise you?”
“Wh-What?” Her voice trembles. “Who?”
