"You killed my sister, you dyke bitch."
The words bounced violently off the concrete walls.
Rage's head snapped toward the noise as Marcus Beaumont appeared at the railing above, pure murder in his eyes. His men flooded out behind him—seven, eight, ten of them—spreading out across the warehouse catwalks with their rifles drawn.
Rage’s face dropped. For a fraction of a second, you could see the naked fear. But women like Lady of Rage don't stay down for long. Her mask snapped right back into place.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Don't." Marcus's voice cracked like thunder. "Don't you fucking stand there and lie to me. I have the recording. I have the confession. I have her body. You killed my sister and buried her like trash."
Rage’s men shifted, hands hovering over their weapons. Surrounded, heavily outnumbered, and still ready to die for her.
Stupid.
"You," Rage spat, her eyes cutting a lethal glare over to me. "You did this."
"No, you did this when you tried to kill me. I just gave him the address." I shrugged, keeping my barrel leveled at her. "You did the rest yourself."
"This is between us," Marcus warned, stepping off the metal stairs. "Nobody else has to die tonight."
Rage laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You think I'm gonna let you—"
"You don't got a choice."
That was Draeon.
"You tried to kill my sister, and you killed his," my brother said, tilting his head. "That means you walked into a room you can't walk out of. Either he kills you, or I do."
I almost smirked. I knew I could count on my brother for at least that much.
Rage’s gaze swept the warehouse. I watched her do the math in her head, trying to calculate a viable exit strategy. It was impossible—not with her six men against Marcus's small army, Moses's people hidden in the shadows, my brother's goons blocking the side exit, and me and Draeon standing right in front of her with our guns aimed at her heart.
"All this for what?" she asked, her voice tight. "It wasn't personal. It's business."
I nodded. "Consider this business, too."
Rage’s hand twitched toward her hip.
"Don't," I warned.
She froze.
"You reach for that gun, and this room turns into a slaughterhouse," I said, offering her a cold, vicious smile."Maybe you take one of us with you. But you still end up bleeding out on this concrete. Same as your men."
We heard Marcus when he moved—he closed the distance so fast nobody had time to react. Each heavy boot step echoed like a countdown. Rage watched him come. Her men watched. I watched. The whole warehouse held its breath.
He stopped right in front of her. Three feet apart. Close enough to touch.
"Why?" Marcus asked, his voice cracking on the word. "Why'd you kill her?"
Rage said nothing.
"Why?" The shout rattled the metal rafters.
And then, Rage smiled.
The way Marcus's face contorted let me know that smile was worse than anything she could have possibly said.
