Page 79 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

Pushing back from the bag, I punch my fist into the mirrored wall. The silvered surface shatters beneath my knuckles and angular shards fall to the floor. I pick up a jagged piece and turn it on myself.

SCOTS

Her name is etched into my left pec, bleeding down my chest and abs. She used to be etched into my very soul, but now I’m empty and all alone.

I thought she’d hear me out, and we’d work through it—that she loved me. I thought she just had to remember how amazing we were together.

But she had sex with Tucker.

My feet are moving unbidden as my beast breaks free of my control. His fucking scent stings my sinuses and offends my olfactory system, blinding me to anything beyond the need to fucking wipe him out of my life.

I find him in the garage, leaning against the hood of the SUV, his arms crossed over his chest like he hasn’t got a care in the world. The door flies open, breaking off its bottom hinge and puncturing the drywall where it hits.

Tucker looks up, and his eyebrows lift slightly as he takes in my expression. “Evening, Zane. Your chest seems to have sprung a leak. Nice penmanship, though.”

“Stay the fuck away from Scottie,” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous.

Tucker tilts his head, studying me with those sharp, dark eyes of his. He sees the bloody shard of mirror in my hand and a faint smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Scottie is a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”

My hand tightens around the shard, the mirror cutting into my palm. “She’s not making good ones right now, but I’m not talking to her. I’m talking to you.”

He straightens, shaking his hands out at his sides, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, as if this is some kind of joke. “You can’t order me off because you’re territorial. Scottie and I have a connection. It’s new, but it’s real. I won’t walk away just because you can’t handle it.”

The words hit me like a slap. “You don’t understand what’s at stake here. Scottie needs to focus, and she can’t do that with you getting into her head.”

He raises an eyebrow, his amusement fading, replaced by something harder. “You mean she can’t focus with me getting into herbed.”

I rush forward. With all my speed and anger, I throw myself at him, swiping forward with my makeshift blade.

The asshole is fast. Tucker counters quickly and slaps away my thrust. Gripping my wrist, he twists until bones snap. I drop the shard with a grunt, but the pain only makes me madder.

I take a run at him. He kicks the piece of broken mirror under the Lamborghini and shoves me back.

I take another run, intending to shoulder-tackle him against the nearest wall and make him listen.

He doesn’t budge. “What the fuck are you?”

He grins. “That’s none of your business.”

I push off him and throw my hands in the air. “You don’t get it. This isn’t a game. If she’s distracted—if she loses focus—she could get herself killed. She’s my squire!”

“Bullshit.” Tucker’s voice cuts through my words like a blade. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t have insulted her tonight and made her feel unworthy again. You think she’s yours, but she’s not.”

“Well, she isn’t yours!”

“Of course she isn’t. She’s her own person, Zane, and you won’t get anywhere with her until you realize that and start respecting her.”

“I respect her.”

“Do you? I don’t see it. You want her. You think you’re entitled to her. You’re even protective of her. But if you truly respected her, you would never have snuck away tonight and made her feel unworthy and unwanted. I’m not the problem here, Zane, you are.”

The casual, almost dismissive way he says it sends my anger into overdrive. I close the distance between us, my chest bumping his as I glare up at him. “I’m the fucking king here, Tucker. Don’t forget that.”

Tucker’s lips curl into a half-smile, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “You might be the king of the Toronto seethe, Zane, but you’re notmyking.”

I see the challenge in his eyes, the unflinching resolve that matches the strength in his broad shoulders. Like he’s a force of nature that can’t be bent or broken.

For a second, all I want to do is show him how much power I have—show him I could rip him apart if I wanted to. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it’s pointless. He’s not afraid of me, and he never will be. And somewhere deep down, that only makes me more furious.

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