“No?” I ask, genuinely needing to know exactly how far she wants to take this torture.
“Well, he’s still breathing, isn’t he? We can’t have that, lover.”
Goddamn, she is so fucking strong.
Right on cue, my brothers, Marigold’s family, begin to flood into the warehouse, their boots echoing off the corrugated steel walls as they form a tight, impenetrable wall of leather and iron around us. That’s when Damon finally feels the weight of his situation. He might be the most untouchable motherfucker in the Greek underworld before he faked his death, but he’s standing in our territory now. Here, the Saint’s Outlaws are the monsters in the dark. If you come for one of us, you come for all, and most don’t leave with breath in their lungs.
Damon lashes out, his fingers digging into my forearm in a last, frantic bid for survival. That’s what men do when death stares them down. No matter how empty they are inside, they still fight.
“I own you,” Damon roars at Marigold, thrashing and fighting fruitlessly against my iron-clad hold on him.
Marigold pays him no mind, humming a careless tune as she weaves between my brothers, rifling through their arsenal. She’s hunting for something specific, but none of them have it.
“Little shadow,” I call out to her.
“Yes, lover,” she replies, instantly turning and coming over to me.
“If you check my pocket, I think you’ll find something you’ve been missing.”
She tilts her head, a wicked spark lighting up her eyes. “I always miss that thing, Tomcat.” She shoots Damon a look of pure disgust. “As tempting as it is to prove him wrong by letting you fuck me right here, I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of seeing me naked. Besides, your brothers are all watching.”
Damn, I love this woman.
Laughter pours from my chest as I shake my head at her. “Not that, baby.”
Marigold’s face falls in genuine disappointment, making me laugh again as her hand slips into my pocket to discover what’s really waiting for her.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not opposed to watching a live-action flick,” Malice chimes in from the group, wiggling his brows.
Marigold giggles, her laughter curling into my chest and settling warm against my heart.
Fucking beautiful.
“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all,” Damon continues to rant, his voice raw.
“Sure you will, bud,” I tell him, completely unbothered.
Then, I let out a sharp grunt as a blade suddenly slides deep into my side.
Well, hell. I should have frisked him myself. I figured if he hadn’t pulled a weapon on Marigold, he must be empty-handed.I should have known he was the kind of bastard who wanted to drag out her suffering with nothing but his own two hands.
What none of us expect, though, is what the sight of me being hurt by Damon does to Marigold.
I thought I’d seen her go feral before, but nothing compares to this. Her eyes blaze with a hatred so raw it chills me, her lips curling back as she unleashes a battle cry that ricochets through the warehouse.
The knife she snatched from my pocket flashes in the warehouse gloom before she drives it into Damon’s gut. I lose count of the stab wounds after fifty, long after his life slips away, but I keep holding him steady for my fierce little warrior to finish her work.
At last, she plunges the blade into his chest, right where she said she did before. Her whole body trembles as she peels her blood-soaked fingers from the handle and steps away. Blood stains her skin and shredded clothes, but it’s the wave of relief in her eyes that holds me.
Marigold finally pulls her gaze away from Damon’s ruined chest and looks up at me. Her teeth glide nervously along her bottom lip as worry creases her face. “What if he’s not dead?” she asks, voicing her deepest, most lingering fear out loud.
Dropping his lifeless body to the concrete, I step over it to close the distance to her. I lift my hand toward her face slowly, wanting her to see my exact intention. She instantly leans into my touch when I curl my fingers around her cheek.
“What have I told you, baby? You and me, right?”
She nods.
“Then I got you.”
