Under His Wrath (Devils & Pretty Sins #2)

1. Rowan

one

Rowan

Five years ago

I lean my head against the wall of the ironclad truck, my pulse finally slowing down. Warm tendrils of blood drip down the sides of my face beneath my skull mask. I want to take it off, but I don’t. I’ve killed twenty-six men tonight and completely obliterated one of the EFW outposts. But it’s not enough—it never is.

Our tactical gear rattles as we speed over the manhole covers lining the streets of Washington, DC, the only sound bouncing between the walls of the truck. My team’s exhausted faces show how hard they’re trying to sit upright. It’s been a long night, but it had to be done.

The Echelons of the Free World, the secret organization we’ve been fighting for years, killed the future leader of the FBI. My best friend—my brother . They delivered him in a box to one of my stations like a pile of trash, his face crushed beyond recognition. My blood boils at the image now permanently imprinted into my mind, and I close my eyes, clenching my jaw until my teeth hurt.

I checked his shoulder tattoo, hoping someone had switched his body and that it wasn’t really him. But the tattoo was there—faded ink and all. No doubt about it… they murdered Cole in cold blood, and all I could do was go on a pointless killing spree to ease the pain.

Fucking pointless .

Not only did it not do shit about lessening my rage, but erasing one outpost doesn’t even mean that much in the grand scheme of things. They have hundreds of them scattered around the country. Where one is snuffed out another two slink in, like rats crawling out of a sinking ship.

The truck takes the corner and comes to a stop in front of the tactical operations center, where the maintenance crew opens the doors for us. My team waits for me to get out first, but I give a quick nod instead. They’re off duty now.

Hawke Ridley, my right-hand man, deploys the order for everyone to see. They all get out one by one, the truck moving its weight from one side to the other in their wake.

I shouldn’t even be here. As the commander of the special ops team, I’m expected to lock myself into the command room to watch over operations like this one, not charge into the outposts like a maniac. But tonight I had to be here because my team—and the chain of command—have no idea what the EFW is or how dangerous they are. Everyone just thinks a group of misfits killed Cole Finnegan, and there’s nothing more to it. If they only knew…

“I could’ve handled it by myself,” Hawke says once we’re facing each other all alone in the truck. He hasn’t taken off his skull mask either. He looks like fucking death incarnate, and I bet I look even worse.

When I don’t answer, he presses on. “You could’ve sent me with the team… there was no need for you to come. Sir.”

I snort at his attempt to show deference. He knows there’s no need for that when we’re alone, but he always does it anyway.

“Go home, Hawke,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I didn’t take you for suicidal.”

A grunt rumbles from my chest before I say, “Well, look at that. I’m alive. None of our men died. And it’s because I came with you.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t have handled it?” He dips his chin.

He looks like he’s about to strangle me. I sigh, turning my gaze toward the back of the truck.

“No. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying. I need to make a phone call.”

He nods once, reeling with the urge to continue the conversation. He knows me well enough not to push it when I can’t think straight. And all I can think of right now is that Cole is dead.

Cole is… dead .

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at me. I hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up. “He was a good man.”

I don’t reply, and he doesn’t expect me to. The truck dips as he exits, the weight of his body now gone. I remove my mask and helmet, then run a bloody, gloved hand through my hair as I’m hit with the warm and humid summer breeze.

My fingers are shaking, itching to wrap themselves around my rifle again—or another masked fucker’s throat. Yeah, that’s what I needed tonight… to feel their pulses leave their bodies and their throats close in as I squeezed them shut. Better to feel their pain than mine.

A gentle rain splatters down the windshield, and my eyes follow the raindrops racing each other down the glass. I take my phone out from under my seat, dialing Maddox Thorne, now my one and only partner in taking down the EFW. It’s four in the morning, but I know he’s waiting for this call. I don’t blame him—if he were out on a killing spree, I’d want him to call and tell me he’s still alive.

“Thank fucking God, Rowan. Jesus fucking Christ,” he answers, his voice rough as if he never even went to sleep at all.

“They’re gone,” I say. “The outpost is empty. You can take it off the map.”

He stays silent for a few seconds. As do I. I can almost picture him squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, as he finally says, “Any deaths?”

“Nope. We’re all fine and dandy. Now, where is it?”

“Where is what…?”

“The lecture about how I went off the rails again. I’m tired enough not to fight you on this, so here’s your chance,” I say.

Earlier tonight, when they delivered Cole’s body, Maddox was completely against this mission. First, because it was dangerous as fuck and we weren’t exactly prepared to go out like that without more than an hour’s notice. And second, because he knew he couldn’t help once I got there. I was on my own. Just me, my men, and all the rotting bodies we left in our wake.

Which is why I don’t expect it when he says, “I would’ve come with you if I could.”

I run a hand down my face, then rest my forearm on my thigh, leaning forward in my seat.

“I wouldn’t have let you. Your job is to run the country. It’s my job to defend it.”

And Cole’s job was to bring it justice, I think to myself.

The truth is, we didn’t just lose our brother. We lost our entire justice system as well.

Maddox is just a few years short of becoming president. And right now, his popularity is off the charts as a congressman. Just like we wanted. Me, I’m to lead the special ops team until he gets us the White House—then I can take charge of the entire military. Everything was going well. Everything was just the way we’d fucking planned. Until this evening.

“I’ll visit Cole’s family in the morning,” he says.

“No. You stay. I’ll go. It’s my fault that he—”

He growls. “I don’t want to hear it. You should know better. You know what we’re up against… And fuck, in the end, Cole did too.”

My pulse quickens, and it feels like I’m getting punched in the gut by an invisible force. But I shove the guilt down into the same place I shove everything I don’t have the luxury of thinking about. Because if I did, it would flip a switch in me I know I’d never be able to turn back off.

Cole has always been the good side of us. He was the only one who joined the military just so he could fight for his country—for his family to have a future to come back to after the war.

Maddox and I, though, have always felt like we had to prove something… to the world, to ourselves, I don’t fucking know. But Cole never cared about the ranks and the power. All he ever wanted was to leave this world a better place than he found it. Then Maddox suggested teaming up to run the country and give it the future it deserves. Cole wasn’t even interested—not until I convinced him. If it weren’t for my stupid fucking arguments… maybe he’d still be alive.

My head feels heavy, and I tighten my hand around the phone. I can’t not take responsibility for his death. The feeling gnaws at my flesh and bones, drawing blood out of old wounds that have yet to heal. A lifetime of pain has made me almost immune to human emotion—I rarely understand happiness or love. All I understand is hell, and that’s why I choose to fight it every day.

“I’ll go,” I say again, leaving no more room for discussion. It’s the very fucking least I can do for his family. “Keep advancing our plans. Get us the White House.”

My fingers curl into a fist as I lift my arm to knock on the Finnegans’ front door. I stare at the chipped paint on the weathered wood, bracing for the inevitable.

The three of us never talked much about our families, except to agree we’d look after them if one of us were to die. I know both of Cole’s parents are alive, though. And in a few moments, they’ll open this door, and I’ll give them the news. And they’ll fall apart, just like any parent would upon hearing they’ll have to plan a funeral for their son.

But that’s not even the worst fucking part.

Because what’s even worse than making two grown adults cry is breaking a little girl’s heart by telling her that her brother isn’t coming home anymore. That’s exactly what I’ll do to Dove, Cole’s sister. She doesn’t deserve it—no kid deserves their childhood being wrecked like that.

I should know.

The back of my father’s hand connects with my face and I slam into the wall, where blood splatters all over the white paint.

It takes me a moment to realize that the blood is mine.

That my father hit me with such force my unbruised skin splintered above my brow.

I can’t breathe.

I turn to look at him, but he looks composed. As if it didn’t happen at all.

“Wipe that shit off,” he tells me. “Then bring me my other gun and try again.”

Quiet footsteps approach me from behind, snapping me out of my thoughts.

My eyes narrow as I turn to face a pair of big hazel eyes. The girl they belong to blinks slowly, effortlessly gracious, before they glance around me, as if I’ve just caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. Her arms wrap around her body, and I instinctively cock my head to the right, observing her.

This can’t be…

My mouth opens to say something, but I find myself wanting to hear her voice instead.

When she makes eye contact again, I realize we’ve been staring at each other in silence. She’s probably stunned to see me because I’m wearing my uniform.

But I’m fucking lost for words at how beautiful she is.

“Dove Finnegan?” I finally ask.

This can’t be her. It can’t be, because in the few times she was mentioned, Cole’s nickname for her has always been “kid.” The kid is a total nerd , he used to say. Or on the phone, when they talked: I’d better not see a scratch on that Honda when I come home, kid. I mean it.

But the young woman staring back at me isn’t a kid.

Ash-brown hair tumbles in soft waves around her heart-shaped face, her skin visibly soft like butter. Her lower lip trembles as she looks back at me, and she tries to stop it by pushing it between her teeth, sending an immediate shockwave of heat throughout my body. I scowl at the feeling. I don’t recognize it.

A faint redness creeps into the whites of her eyes. They’re surrounded by dark circles, which look miserable on such a pretty face. She’s either working too much or something’s stressing her out.

I look down at her slender hands, her fingertips stained with dark oil. Then my eyes glance behind her, where Cole’s old Honda seems to have seen better days since there’s smoke coming out of the hood. It’s a fucking mess, and I find myself wanting to take care of it. Take care of her .

“That’s me,” she whispers, her voice small and timid and warm, just like I expected it to be.

She looks so angelic, so fucking pure as she looks up at me through a web of eyelashes. My fingers itch to drag her into my chest and undo all of that. Me . And no one else.

Would she even let me? Or would she bang her fists into my chest, wanting to get away?

The sound of a passing car gets my attention, and I lift my chin to stop myself from staring at her. She seems anxious, but hopeful. I know damn well she won’t be looking at me like this after I tell her what I’m here to say.

“Are your parents around?”

She takes a moment to decide if she should tell me, as if her body sets off alarm bells about being near me. As it fucking should—though I won’t be the one to tell her that.

“Okay.” I nod once, holding her stare. “Here’s what you’re going to do, then, Dove. You’re going to go inside, bring me a glass of water, and then sit on the stairs in front of your house while you listen to what I have to say. Do you understand?”

She nods back, and the praise slips from my lips faster than I can fucking control it.

“Good girl.”

My jaw clenches on its own, because I know what those words mean to me, even if they mean nothing to her. Why the fuck would I call her that?

I contemplate just dropping the news on her now so I can leave, but all my thoughts die when I see that the color of her cheeks has changed. From pale to blood red, all in the span of seconds. She… heard me. She fucking heard me. And not just what I said, but how I said it—shamelessly, like we’re in some other place, in some other universe that doesn’t revolve around the death of someone we’ve both lost.

I drag a hand down my face and let her do what I asked. She walks past me on wobbly feet, whisking her shoulder against my arm. And in that fraction of a second, I can’t help but lean in closer, the warmth of her skin and the sweet scent that wafts around her calling me in like honeybees drawn to nectar.

I’ve never in my life paid attention to such an insignificant detail. And so, I worry. I fucking worry that this innocent touch and the way this woman looks at me might just be enough to damn me to a lifetime of obsession.

My eyes follow her until she disappears behind the door. I can feel my heart thrashing against my ribs like a bird in a bower of bones. My cock strains against my uniform pants, craving the sight of her. But I take a few aimless steps in front of her house, reeling back my need and pushing it down into the darkest pits of my mind.

There are a million reasons I can’t have this woman. I don’t do relationships, for one. I can’t. My life doesn’t even have the guarantee of tomorrow, let alone being with the same person for the rest of my life. I’d break her heart either way. And if by some miracle I did have the guarantee of staying alive, it wouldn’t be next to her. She’s my best friend’s sister, and I know exactly what I’m made of.

If I had her, I’d fucking break her—clip those angelic wings and sink my teeth into that sweetness she carries within her. I’d want her heart raw in the palm of my hand and her body dripping with my cum from all her tight little holes long after I’m done using her. I’d want her mind bound to mine until she can’t make out where her will ends and mine begins.

Every breath, every fear, every fleeting hope—she’d hand them all over, and I’d give her no other choice. And then… then I’d show her off to the fucking world, so they all know who owns her.

Dove enters my field of vision with a glass in her shaky hands, and I nod my approval—she’ll need that water. She then sits down on the porch, and I come back to my senses. Her brother is dead. It snaps me back to the task at hand like a spring.

Big, round tears coat her eyelashes and stream down her cheeks as I make out the words and tell her what happened and who I am. I have to lie to her, of course, and tell her he died on the battlefield. Cole’s family is just as in the dark about our plans as my family or Maddox’s. All they know is we’re in the military, fighting for our country against the Coalition, who attacked the Ridge.

Quiet sobs shake Dove’s petite body, and if I had a heart, the sight would fucking break it. But there’s a growing need somewhere deep inside of that hollowed-out space, a need bigger than me and what I know to be right.

I crouch in front of her, my thumb pressing against the soft skin under her left eye. A teardrop slides down and covers it, and the next thing I know I’m tasting her pain on my tongue: salty, and bitter, and smooth like early morning dew. I groan—fucking groan —as she spreads throughout my body like wildfire, breaking into every cell that keeps me alive.

Fucking hell.

I comfort her as best I can and when I realize I can’t be this close to her anymore, I stand up and turn my face to the street, arguing with myself about leaving. I did what I came here to do. I should go. I should let her get on with her life and find a man who deserves her. But then she whimpers, and my eyes seek her again. Like a wounded little bird needing food and shelter, she sits there, her throat choking on sobs and the air she’s trying to pull back into her lungs. And all I want to do is lock her in a cage, feed her my cum, and make her mine.

I extend my hand forward, seeing if she even wants to be picked up. But surprise catches me off guard when I feel the warmth of her skin wrapped around mine. I pull her in, and she lets me, sobbing in the safe space I created for her against my chest. Her hair, just like the rest of her, feels like silk against my scarred palms. And the scent? This woman smells like sugared strawberries and summer rain, and I never want to forget what that feels like. In fact, I don’t think I can.

“Rowan,” she whispers, and my body hums at the way my name rolls off her sweet tongue. “It’s okay if you want to kiss me.”

It’s okay if I want to kiss her.

The fucking devil couldn’t tempt me more if he wanted to.

But in this moment it takes everything in me to realize the truth of what this is… that Dove’s grief looks different from mine. That she wants this— needs this—because not experiencing it means having to deal with the harsh reality weighing down on her. She thinks my grip will protect her, and that my voice will soothe away her demons. I want to give that to her more than anything. But I can’t. I won’t . Cole would never forgive me if he knew the kinds of thoughts that are going through my head. The kinds of things I’d do to his little sister if given the chance.

“You’re grieving. It wouldn’t be right,” I tell her, my body going tense at the conflict within me.

Silence passes between us, three breaths deep. I hold her close and press my lips against her forehead as my fingers dig into her wavy hair, pulling it back. Her body sags against mine, and she looks confused as I say—

“Take care of yourself, Dove Finnegan.”

I can still feel her on my skin when I reach my car. The image of her crying is now etched into my mind, right next to the one of Cole’s lifeless body in that fucking box.

The best thing for both of us would be to let her go. To forget this day ever happened and blow off steam the way I always do. But I made a vow to her brother. I told him I’d look after his family, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do. Dove Finnegan might never know the monster lurking in the shadows of her life… but that monster will sure as fuck know her.