Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
And I know something she doesn't. Sullivan may hate me for taking her…but he loves her infinitely more. And Rojas just declared war on both our houses. On her. Nothing unites motherfuckers like us quite like giving us a mutual enemy to hate, to destroy.
It's time to destroy.
I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, watching the way irritation bleeds from her eyes, replaced with lust. It's good to see, not because we have time to fuck right now—we don't—but because after the trauma of tonight, I wasn't sure what to expect with her. But Brynna is a princesa to her fucking core. My princesa. She doesn't break. She's soft, malleable, able to endure because she can adapt.
People like me and Sullivan, people like Nicolas, we tend to think you need to be the opposite. That this world takes darkness and granite skin to survive it. People like Brynna know better. They live better. They endure because they adapt. They survive because it's who they are. It didn't have to be beat into them like it did with us. They were born with souls that never flag, with light that can't be tarnished no matter how much bullshit is poured over it.
"He isn't going to hit me, mi amor. Trust me."
Those are the magic words, the ones she can't resist. She trusts me the same way I trust her—with every fucking piece of me.
"Okay," she whispers.
I brush my lips across her crown, breathing her in, saying a prayer. That she's mine. That she's here. That Nicolas didn't get his filthy fucking hands on her.
"As soon as this is done, I'm going to work on putting my kid in you, mi alma," I murmur.
She shivers, whimpering quietly. I know she wants it. She wouldn't let me fuck her the way I do if she didn't. Who knows? Maybe planting my kid in her will soften her bastard of a father. Heirs have a way of doing that.
I climb from the SUV, striding toward the front door. It takes five minutes of constant banging before Sullivan practically rips it off the hinges to glower at me.
"You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Leyva," he snarls, hatred painted across his face. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you right fucking here."
"I'll give you three. Follow me." I don't wait to see if he's following, I just turn on my heel, heading back toward the car.
Five seconds later, he mutters a curse, stomping out after me. His steps falter when he sees Brynna sitting in the passenger seat, but when she meets his gaze, he quickly glances away.
Stubborn fool.
I lead him to the back of the SUV, using my key fob to open the hatch.
He rears back when he sees Nicolas and Juan hog-tied inside, both bloody and battered. Both beaten within an inch of their lives. Neither is conscious now, but they were for most of what I did to them. I made sure of that.
I'm going to have to burn the SUV to get rid of this evidence, but the state they're in? Every one of their screams was fucking worth the effort.
"What the fuck is this, Leyva?" Sullivan growls, his eyes locked on the men in the cargo hold.
"A gift," I murmur. "Torture him. Kill him. Make him suffer however the fuck you want."
"Why?"
"He's been giving you information about my organization for the last year, and you never stopped to question why. He works for Rojas, Sullivan. Did you really think Rojas would leave you alive when he was done using you in his little game? If you did, you're a fucking idiot."
Sullivan's mouth tightens. "Don't piss me off, Leyva."
"No," I snarl, beyond playing nice. "You don't piss me off, Sullivan. They attacked tonight. They put their fucking hands on your daughter. And you could have stopped it." I glower at him, rage boiling in my veins. "She's the only reason I'm not lining your body up beside theirs. She loves you. She needs you. So you don't piss me off, motherfucker. Take your gift and be grateful I'm standing here at all."
"Jesus," Nolan mutters, cracking. His hand shakes as he brushes it down his face, glancing toward the front of the SUV where Brynna sits in the passenger seat. He can't hide the worried lights in his eyes, the guilt or fear. "They attacked her?"
"Yeah, they attacked her." I slam the cargo hold closed, meeting his gaze. "It's the last fucking mistake Rojas will make. You may hate me. I don't care. But right now, I need you to hate him more. If she matters to you even half as much as she matters to me, love her enough to hate him more."
Nolan eyes me for a long moment and then jerks his chin in a nod, his expression softening incrementally, as if, for once, he's seeing what's right in front of him. He realizes that Brynna isn't a game to me. She's something I'll die to protect. "What do you need me to do, Nazario?"