I’m not sure I can make her do what needs to be done.
I don’t even know if I want to.
Fucking hell.
The look on her face when she told me replays on a loop in my head as I turn away from Katia and stare at London through the crack in the door with warring emotions.
I keep seeing her tear-filled eyes and the quiver of her lips, and it makes me feel worse.
Like I’m the monster everyone thinks I am.
“You need to talk to her,” Katia says finally, her voice jolting me out of my reprieve. She’s looking at London, too. “Whatever you two decide, you need to do it quickly.”
My chest is tight again as I turn away from London and storm back down the stairs.
This time, Katia doesn’t follow me outside.
My mood darkens when I reach the back door and look into the scanner. I hold out my arm, and a moment later, the door hisses open. I step into the shadows, and the smell of alcohol and perfume hits me. I continue forward until I’m in a hallway that spills out onto the main floor.
Somewhere to my left, a senator groans in pain and pleasure.
The sight of so much pleasure and depravity doesn’t give me the power and high it usually does.
I lean against the nearest wall, fold my arms over my chest, and watch.
A redheaded woman races past with two men trailing closely behind, and they can barely walk straight. She steps into one of the hallways, and they fall against her, laughing uproariously. I glance away from them and stare back at the main floor.
There isn’t enough liquor in the club to dull my senses, but I’m tempted to try.
I’m halfway to the bar when I see Noah’s friend, Steven, backing one of the women against the nearest wall, a dark gleam in his eyes. The brunette stiffens when he reaches out and grazes her breasts. My heart is pounding as I change course and make a beeline for them.
Steven has his hand on her leg. I tap him on the shoulder.
Before he turns around completely, I punch him in the mouth. I taste the bloodlust before I realize I’m reaching for him again. Steven uses the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth. His eyes widen and focus when they land on me, andhe tries to scramble back. I grab him by the scruff of his neck and slam him against the nearest wall. Steven makes a choking noise as I drag him back onto the floor and throw another punch.
My ears are ringing when I pull him up by the scruff of his neck and punch him again in the jaw.
Bright-red blood drips down the sides of his mouth.
The metallic smell fills my nostrils.
The ringing in my ears turns to a dull roar as I drag Steven away, barely registering his yelling and kicking. I pause in the hallway outside my office and release him. He crawls away, huffing and panting as he does, and I consider letting him go. Any mercy I feel toward Steven disappears when he glances at me.
He tilts his head and spits out a mouthful of blood.
I lunge at him, and he doesn’t stand a chance. He pushes me off him, clawing and kicking, and it enrages me further. The monster in me is calling for blood, retribution, and the chance to be unleashed, and I allow it a fraction of release.
The crunch of bone is like music to my ears.
There is nothing but quiet and focus as I rear back again and again.
I think of Michael Everett and Lance Fitzpatrick and imagine they’re the ones at my mercy.
I punch him again, and this time it’s Thatcher Thayer beneath my fist.
When I reel back, it’s my father’s face tilted back to look at me.
Suddenly, it’s London’s face, and the baby growing inside of her.
