Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
CREED
“T orres, we just managed to divert one hundred of St. Jude’s containers to one of the Blackwood docks. We’re celebrating. Come on,” Diego laughs, slapping me on the back.
I barely react, my grip tightening around the crystal tumbler in my hand. Whiskey burns down my throat, but it does nothing to dull my senses.
I scan the opulent hotel ballroom, where our men drink and celebrate the successful interception of St Jude’s weapons surrounded by women and men in various stages of undress. By now, news would have reached the Guild. They’ll be scrambling, trying to figure out who fucked them over. Trying to find me.
Good. Let them.
Diego leans against the bar beside me, grinning. “Man, you should be happy. This was flawless. And my people will have the wire transfer done before sunrise.”
I don’t answer. I just take another slow sip.
Because in the grand scheme of things, I don’t give a fuck about the money. All I care about is destroying the Guild, even if that means destroying her. I shouldn’t second guess myself. But why the fuck is it that all I see is her.
That night in my shop—her lips on mine, her hands on my chest, the way she felt, how good we still fit. Like we were meant to be.
“You gonna sulk all night?” Diego presses, motioning for another drink. “We should be moving on to the next phase soon. But first, we celebrate our success.”
I exhale sharply, setting my glass down. “You celebrate. I’ve got shit to do.”
He frowns. “You’re really gonna bail?”
“I didn’t come here to fucking party,” I snap.
Diego holds up his hands in surrender. “Suit yourself.”
I push off the bar and make my way through the crowd, past men laughing over expensive liquor, women draped over them, champagne glasses clinking. The air reeks of cigar smoke and indulgence.
But I don’t belong here.
I never did.
I step outside into the crisp night air, running a hand down my face. My pulse is thrumming, my mind fucking chaotic.
The Guild is going to retaliate. They won’t take this loss quietly. And that means I need to be ready.
But then there’s her.
And the fact that Amelia is still nowhere to be found. Not even my best investigators could track that bitch down.
I pull my phone from my pocket, hesitation curling through me before I type a message.
Mackenzie.
One word. One name. The only one that matters.
But I don’t press send.
Because what the fuck would I even say?
That I hate myself for pushing her away? That if I could, I’d burn the entire Guild to the ground just to have her?
My fingers tighten around the phone before I shut off the screen and shove it back into my pocket because none of that matters anymore.
Right now, war is coming.
And I don’t know if either of us is going to make it out alive.