I stay perfectly still.
He keeps walking.
“I will not lose this deal with Sterling Tech,” he snaps. “Bruce is being more than accommodating. He’s still willing to mate the boy as long as he isn’t with-child. And if he is, we’ll take care of it.”
Take care of it?
A cold, black rage washes over me, so potent it’s a struggle to stay in control.
This motherfucker is planning to kill my baby.Ourbaby.
I see red, a haze of fury that threatens to consume me. Iforce it down, channeling it, focusing it into the single point of the man in front of me.
“That’s fine,” Marcus growls as he stops next to his car. “We can go over the specifics tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.
Rage pounds in my veins as I watch this asshole just stand there for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sucks in a quick breath, then clicks his car fob.
The headlights flash.
I move.
I close the distance between us with lightning speed, boots silent against the concrete. Before Marcus can turn fully, I grab his collar and slam him hard into the side of the car. The metal dents with a sharp thud.
“What the?—”
He swings at me, but I block it and drive my fist straight into his face. Bone crunches under my knuckles, and blood spills instantly.
Marcus stumbles.
Before he regains his footing, I hook my arm around his throat and wrench him backward, kicking at the back of his knee. The fucker drops hard onto the concrete, but I’m on him before he can recover.
I grab the asshole by the hair and slam his face into the ground once. Twice.
He thrashes hard on the second hit and manages to twist under me, shoving at my chest with both hands. I let the momentum carry me back a step instead of fighting it, boots sliding slightly on the concrete as I reset my stance.
Marcus rolls onto his side and pushes himself up slowly. One hand stays braced on the floor while the other presses against his ribs like he’s checking for damage. His movements are stiff and uneven,clearly hurt.
I stay where I am.
My fists curl tight, shoulders squared, weight balanced on the balls of my feet.Ready.
Marcus finally gets upright, then he slowly turns and faces me. Blood runs freely from his broken nose, streaking over his lips and dripping down onto his collar. One eye is already swelling, the skin around it darkening fast. His expensive suit jacket is smeared with red and concrete dust.
His expression shifts the second he really looks at me.
Recognition settles in.
He laughs. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he says through blood. It coats his teeth. “You think you’ll get away with attacking me?” He spits blood to the side. “There are cameras everywhere.”
I don’t react.
He thinks I work security at local bars and bounce drunks. He thinks this is well outside my skill set. Good. Let him think that.
“I don’t care about getting away with shit,” I tell him calmly. “I care about you never coming near Jude again.” I pull the gun from my belt, the metal cool and heavy in my hand, the weight a little awkward because of the silencer screwed onto the end. Then I point it right at Marcus’s face.
I see his throat work as he swallows hard, all the cockiness draining from the fucker’s face.
“Wait,” he says as he slowly raises his hands in defense. “Let's not rush things here. This can be smoothed over,” he says quickly. “You want money? Name your price.”
