Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Drago
I slam my foot on the gas, the Aston Martin snarling beneath me as it tears down the road. My hands clamp around the wheel hard enough to ache.
I need to get my head straight.
Every damn time she’s near me, my self-restraint fractures, and hairline cracks are spreading faster than I can contain them.
The way she looks at me is like she sees something underneath the mask. The way she says my fucking name brings goosebumps out on my skin.
It cannot happen.
It was never supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to be an obligation to Lev… Until it morphed into something else. It gave me feelings I never thought I’d have. Not just for her, for anyone.
I never expected the pull to be this violent. This consuming. Like my body decided she was mine long before my brain caught up. And I’m too old for her.
She’s ten years younger than me. She goes on dates with guys under thirty when she does date. Not men nearing forty like I am. That’s just another reason this can’t happen.
I pull up across the street from Lily’s place and kill the engine. The silence rings in my ears.
I reach into the glove compartment, pull out a cigarette, and light it with shaking fingers. The first drag burns, and I welcome it. I need something sharp to anchor me.
I slam the door shut and lean back against the cool metal, tipping my head toward the night sky as smoke spills from my lungs.
Breathe.
Then I hear it.
The faintest rustle behind me.
Not wind. Not an animal.
Human.
My spine straightens instantly, and the cigarette pauses at my lips as muscle memory kicks in.
I take another drag, eyes unfocused, while my other hand slides down, unholstering my gun inch-by-inch.
One.
Two.
Three.
I flick the cigarette to the ground and pivot in one smooth motion, gun up, arm locked, aim steady.
A hooded figure stands across the street, half swallowed by shadow. My pulse thunders, but my grip doesn’t waver. If I pull the trigger, the sound will echo, and I have no doubt someone will call the cops.
I can’t afford that.
This has to be quiet.
I step forward, lowering my voice but not my weapon.
“Wrong house,” I say evenly.
The figure doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just shifts their weight slightly, like they’re deciding whether to run or rush me.
Big mistake either way.
I move first.
Crossing the street in three long strides, I close the distance before they can react. My gun presses into their ribs as my free hand grabs the front of their hoodie and slams them back against the brick wall.
“Who sent you?” I growl low, right in their ear.
They shake their head, breathing fast. I smell cheap cologne and fear.
“Wrong answer.”
I twist their arm up behind their back until bones grind and they cry out, the sound choked off by my shoulder.
“Say her name,” I warn. “And you live.”
Silence.
Then, barely audible, “I was just watching.”
My blood goes ice cold. “Watching who?”
They hesitate, and I apply pressure.
“Lily,” he gasps.
That’s all it takes for me to see red. I slam their head back once. Just enough to drop them. Not enough to kill. Tonight isn’t about bodies. It’s about learning our enemy.
I crouch, grabbing a fistful of their hoodie, dragging their face close to mine.
“You don’t watch her,” I say softly. “You don’t follow her. You don’t breathe in her direction.”
I don’t hit him again out of anger. I do it because it’s efficient.
One sharp blow to the side of his head. He crumples instantly, knees giving out before his body even understands what’s happened. I catch him before he hits the pavement, hauling him upright by the hoodie like dead weight.
Unconscious.
Good.
I drag him across the street, every muscle in my body coiled tight, senses flaring for movement, for witnesses, for anything out of place. The neighborhood stays quiet. They do say the rich sleep heavy.
I pop the trunk of the Aston Martin and shove him inside, stripping his phone from his pocket and putting it in mine. Then I slam the trunk shut and lock it.
He’ll wake up soon, but he won’t be leaving… Not until I’m done with him.
I adjust my jacket, shove the gun back into its holster, and turn toward Lily’s house.
She asked me to grab a few things.
I cross the lawn and unlock the door quietly, stepping inside as if I belong here. And fuck, I wish that was true, but it’s just not meant to be.
The house smells like her. Familiar in a way that twists something deep in my chest. I move fast as I gather what she asked for.
But then, I can’t help myself as I pass her bedside table. I stop and pull open that drawer. Because I like punishment, I look down.
And my dick fucking throbs as I stare at her little toy collection. All pastel colours, different shapes and sizes. No wonder she never brings guys back here; she doesn’t need them. She’s got plenty to keep her more satisfied than they ever would.
And then to really send me straight to hell, I reach down and pick up one of the pink ones, feeling the soft rubber beneath my fingers. Sucking in a breath, I tip my head back, looking up at the ceiling like something might tell me to fucking stop.
But I need relief, I need something. I haven’t in days. I haven’t had sex in years. I have no interest, not when I only think about one woman.
Adjusting my cock in my pants, I bring the toy up to my nose, smelling it. I know it’s wrong. It’s clean, but the scent of her lingers. Barely there but enough to make me feral.
Because that’s the only way I’m going to get that close to her. I pocket the toy and storm out
This time, I don’t linger.
I don’t touch anything I don’t have to. Because I don’t have time to jerk off right now.
I lock the door behind me and head back toward the car. There’s a man in my trunk who thought watching her was harmless. He’s about to learn how wrong he was. Hopefully, it bring us one step closer to the Preacher.
But, if Lev’s warnings are right… Anyone could be after this fucking necklace and the one who wears it.
As I head back to Inferno, I call Reggie. “Do you and Rowan want some fun tonight?”
He grunts. “Depends what kind you’re talking about, Drago.”
“The torturing kind. I got a guy in my trunk, and I have an idea that might get more out of Madame Eve, too.”
I glance at the time, and it’s already eleven p.m. Not that it matters, I hardly sleep. But knowing Lily is in my house makes me want to rush home.
“Sounds like fun. It’ll just be me. Rowan and Bella are a little tied up.” He tells me.
I roll my eyes. Rowan probably is the one tied up, literally.
“Call Finn. I think we need some extra sadistic qualities tonight. Charlotte didn’t get anything from Madame Eve on the first go,” I tell him.
Dr. Finn Quinn is probably the closest man I’ve met to a true psychopath. His methods are unhinged; it’s fascinating how he hunts down men with his wife, too. He was once an award-winning heart surgeon; now he’s a family man with his new baby girl.
Yet, he will never turn down a fight or a chance to spill blood.
“Yeah. I didn’t think the son card was going to work on her,” Reggie says.
I sigh. Whoever is leading this cult really does know how to brainwash their ‘soldiers’.
“We can keep trying. Maybe her corpse will send a better message to the Preacher than anything she could tell us anyway.”