“The man who hurt our omega.”
Now Finn had a direction. He wanted what was never his.
“Good. Come to me bastard,” Gregor said, moving to leave the room.
I glanced at the message once more and replied.
Me: Thanks. I’m ready to slice his nipples off his chest and feed them to him.
Yuri: Send me pictures.
I locked the screen and reached for my phone to call Maeve.
"Lock the bedroom. Is Fergus with you?"
"Yes, but why—"
"Lock it. You, Mac, Fergus. I'll come get you when we're done talking."
I hung up before she could argue. She'd be furious later. I'd survive.
I walked out of the hub and down the corridor toward Artem's office. The house passed in a blur of dark wood and low lighting.
Gregor reached the office at the same time I arrived. He leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed. Artem was at his desk, reviewing something on his tablet. They both looked up when I entered. They'd smelled me coming—the sharp edge in my scent, the adrenaline threading through the caramel and storm.
"You smell like you're about to shoot someone," Artem observed.
"I’d prefer to use my knife.”
"What is it?" Artem's voice was low and even, the way it got when he was already calculating responses before I'd finished speaking.
"Yuri's network." I stopped in front of the desk. "Callum didn't go home to Dublin. He took a plane to Belfast and now Finn O'Shea knows Maeve is alive. He knows about the marriage. He knows she's with us."
Artem's face did not change.
That was how I knew it landed.
My brother had many faces for violence. Cold amusement. Polite boredom. The faint smile that made sensible men remember pressing appointments in other countries. But when something threatened the center of the pack, everything was armed and waiting.
"How long?" he asked.
"Yuri’s intel says he's gathering men. No doubt Callum told him about our set-up."
Gregor made a sound and then said, "Let him come. I've wanted to kill him since I saw what he carved into her throat."
"We don't just kill him." The words were out of my mouth before I'd thought them through. "We dismantle him. We make sure every criminal enterprise in Europe knows what happens when you touch a Petrov omega."
"We could do both," Artem said mildly. "Kill him first. Dismantle after. The order is flexible."
I liked this plan enormously. I opened my mouth to say so.
Then Gregor said, "Maeve decides."
I closed my mouth.
He was right. I hated that he was right. I loved that he was right, because that was the difference between us and every man who'd ever hurt her. We could burn Finn O'Shea alive in the driveway and sleep like babies afterward. Oh, the want was there, hot and eager under my skin, but the choice belonged to Maeve. Her fear. Her scar. Her peace. Her ending.
"Fine," I said. "But if she asks me to kill him, I'm calling dibs."
