Chapter 17 | Preston
SEVENTEEN | PRESTON
Red clouds my vision as I shove open the passenger door and step out into the air that does nothing to extinguish the inferno blazing behind my sternum.
We were set up.
Ambushed at one of our borders.
The scent of smoke, explosives, and carnage that permeated the air still clings to my clothes. My skin. The rancid smell is seared into my pores, a reminder that this war is only beginning, and we’ve already lost one of our territories.
I’m not sure how I managed to get onto the helicopter and back to the estate. All I remember is Carter hurling his body at mine after the first few gunshots pierced through the night as we were unloading cargo. Not even the illegal weapons we were moving could’ve saved us from the attack.
Thirty-seven men.
Thirty-seven brothers whose bodies were left in the rubble and dirt in and outside of that warehouse, as if they were nothing but a pile of bones. I didn’t want to leave them, but getting out of there was a priority.
Now, only sixteen of us are returning home—less than half of the men I took to Virginia.
That’s not including the ones who were stationed there and already dead when we arrived. I knew something was wrong the moment we landed—the kind of silence that is suffocating because he had already taken out everyone before we got there.
Their blood is on my hands.
It’s always On. My. Hands.
The back of the military-grade vehicle lowers, and several of my men wheel out their friends on gurneys into the medical center that shares the same grounds as our estate.
Those who survived the flight, if they weren’t left behind.
Luckily, Arden was safe at the estate, letting me handle this one on my own.
There may have been burning skin, hair, and the stench of blood that stained the air, but I could still pick out the unmatched scent of a cigar that threaded through the aftermath.
At first, I thought it was my brain playing tricks on me, wanting me to seek him out like a bloodhound.
There was no time to find him, not when we were taken by surprise.
I thought we were prepared for anything. Ready for everything. But it’s not until someone strikes that you realize you underestimated their power.
When the plane carrying our survivors took off, I hopped into the helicopter with Carter, and that’s when we saw him below. He strutted out of the warehouse in his gray suit, puffing on one of those cigars that makes me want to release the acid in my stomach. His fucking son, Nico, was beside him.
Our cargo.
Our men.
Our fucking territory.
My. Territory.
I’ll be damned if I let him take everything we’ve drained our blood, sweat, and tears into, which means finding the imposter he’s implanted in our walls.
Anyone will betray you when the price is high enough—when the gains outweigh the losses, the gamble is worth the risk.
In their case, I hope it was worth the fucking risk, considering Luciano took out one of our top locations and has his vile hands on our biggest shipment of the year. Which is why ever since our wheels left the ground, dark blonde waves have weaved through the red blanketing my vision.
My little rat might be a mole.
And if this bloodshed is on Kate’s hands, the last words she’ll speak are her begging for her life through the air I’m robbing her of as I grip her gold chain in my hand and tighten it around her pretty little throat.
The gurneys with men who are clutching limbs and struggling to keep their hearts beating are rushed inside, while some of my other guys limp through the doors.
The medical center was alerted a few hours ago through the alarm system.
When I enter, the medical staff are flying from one side of the room to the other, taking my men to rooms and attending to the most critical injuries.
The entire place is abuzz with chaos, but my radar is zeroing in on one person.
I swear to fucking God, if she’s not here…
My footsteps are heavy as I march through the waiting area, as if I can somehow feel her presence bubbling under my skin.
As I enter the hallway with doors to the patient rooms, I toss open the first door, but it's someone else wrapping the arm of one of my men. I throw open the next one, but she’s not in there either.
Her name is a growl in my chest.
A curse on my tongue.
Intoxicating rage consumes me as I barge through the second-to-last door at the back of the building near the surgery room.
As if she’s as affected by my presence as I am by hers, Kate’s shoulders stiffen.
She’s monitoring one of my men’s vital signs when he registers the look on my face.
Luckily, his injuries are minor. There are bruises on his arms and a gash cutting through his chin that will need stitches and leave a scar—just another story to mark his skin like the rest of us.
Without a word, he stands and scurries out of the room, leaving us alone.
I shut the door, ensnaring the rodent with my presence as my rage charges the room. The fear radiating off her is palpable. So sweet and potent that I’m eager for her to face me.
When she does, I’m nearly knocked off balance by how beautiful she is. Her round face is brighter, a sign she’s gotten rest since I’ve been gone. Her long, slightly curled hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, looking so much lighter than it usually is against her black scrubs.
The swells of her cheeks are vibrantly painted a beautiful rose that pops against the ghostly color of the rest of her face. Her green eyes fix frantically on mine.
I don’t want to come clean about how often I’ve thought about her while I’ve been gone.
How the vision of her absentmindedly wiggling the perfect swells of her round ass against my erection when I gifted her that collar was on a rotating track.
Then I spiraled, wondering what it would’ve felt like to shove those tight shorts around her ankles and use my dick to test if she was as wet as I thought she was.
Those manifestations fell behind my eyes as I languidly stroked my cock, drawing out my release.
A release that wasn’t fucking satisfying in the slightest because it wasn’t her cunt gripping my cock like I imagined.
Seeing her now reminds me of how distracted and unhinged she makes me. How dangerous she is to everything I’ve worked so hard for.
She’s obliterating my control.
Robbing me of my fucking sanity.
Exactly like he wants.
I barely recognize my voice. “You’re not going to run?”
Her lips part, and I track the movement. Her gulp is audible over the thrashing in my chest. “Why would I run?” She studies my face, then her focus instantly falls to my shoulder. “Preston, you’re bleeding.”
My pace is deliberate as I stalk toward her slowly. She instinctively tries to retreat, but her back hits the paper covering the treatment table. “I suggest you carefully consider how you answer my next question, or I’ll add another name to the list of the dead.”
She audibly sucks in a breath.
I tilt my head. “What did he promise you?”
“Wh-What?” Her voice trembles. “Who?”
“Don’t,” I snap, making her jump. “I fucking know you’re working for that bastard. The one who has destroyed everything in my life,” I point my finger at my chest. Her ass perches on the table, and I use the opportunity to step between her legs. “He’s taken everything from me!”
“Preston, I—”
The rage increases tenfold, injecting into my bloodstream that rushes to pound against my skull. I snatch her throat in my fist, leaning over her as Kate’s back bends under me.
God, she is so fucking fragile.
If I bend her under my weight anymore, her spine would snap like a twig.
My fingers pulse into her flesh, trapping her gold collar beneath my hand. She gasps for breath, tears slipping over her bottom lashes and onto her cheeks. Her pulse—so beautifully alive—flutters against my palm.
It would be so easy to break this pretty neck.
I lower my face to hers, my breath fanning across those tempting lips. “It’s unfortunate that the prettiest things are always the most lethal.”
Kate nods in my grasp. She struggles to speak through the airway I’m crushing in my fist. Her mouth is an inch from mine. “The feeling is mutual, Captain.”
Then Kate does something I don’t expect.
She lifts her hands to cup both sides of my face, drawing my focus from her puffy, tear-soaked lips back to her bloodshot eyes.
I blink, the cool green of her irises fresh against the fire licking every inch of my skin.
My grasp on her neck loosens just a little.
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, shaking her head. “It’s not me, Pres. I’m not the one who did this. I don’t know who he is.”
My resolve hardens. “You’re lying!”
“Kiss me.” It’s a whisper.
Now I’m the speechless one. What kind of witchcraft am I yielding to, where I’m considering shoving my tongue in more places than just her mouth with that plea?
My heart screeches to a stop. “What?”
Her soft hands against my face are a different kind of heat that penetrates the unbearable inferno covering my skin in a sheen of sweat, dirt, and other grime from the grenades that detonated the ground I stood on.
It’s trying to burn me alive, but her warmth blooms out from where she’s touching me, pushing back, and extinguishing the flames that are a living, breathing thing against my flesh.
Her tender fingers dance across my cheeks, those eyes firm like she’s somehow going through the archives of my life.
Kate is somehow looking at me with fresh eyes. This isn’t what they looked like when I left her.
“I want you to kiss me,” she whispers again, another tear gliding down her face.
My heartbeat slows more than it was, pulsing wildly for an entirely different reason.
I slam my eyes shut.