Page 16 of Chaos Kills

“Keep me on the phone,” Hot Rod orders. “You say Nissan, and I’m coming in.”

Juice’s car.

Asshole.

The door begins to skid open, and I drop the phone in my lap. My knees are almost pulled into my chest to hide my cell, but it still doesn’t give me much comfort.

One bullet and it’s done.

Aiming the barrel of my weapon into the direction of my latest newcomer, I don’t utter a single fucking word. The eeriness I’m given causes the hairs on my arms to stand on end, and my first thought goes to Reeve.

How he was here once before.

The look on his face.

The despair and betrayal in those hazel eyes.

My head will not allow me to forget the way he begged me not to marry someone else. That he’d take care of everything.

And maybe he would’ve been able to do all that.

But the chances were risky, and I needed a guarantee to make sure all my terms were met. Yet those thoughts of him are quickly demolished when I hear the door opening.

With my index finger over the trigger, I’m more than ready to yank on it with tears burning the backs of my eyes.

In fact, I’m praying I can fire this weapon just to release some pent-up anger and despair. I can’t take another moment by myself and mulling over everything I’ve done wrong. How I’m such a fuckup. That since Dad’s stroke, I haven’t been able to manage anything right.

Maybe I never have.

And now, Mae and Ellie are left with me.

A body steps out from behind the door—only the black edges of a human form visible—and my nostrils flare.

Outside stands my husband.

I’m starting to hate that word in its entirety.

I’m met with dark eyes and the looming question of what the hell he’s doing here. If he thought we were about to escape for our honeymoon, I have a piece of lead that would inform him of my rejection of the idea.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I grind out, watching how ominously calm he is.

And how did you find me?

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. It gives me more time to evaluate the outside of him as a human being.

Or what kind of monster I’m dealing with.

His dark hair is longer along the front and almost drapes over one eye. His jaw is sharp and sculpted before the black ink covering his neck hides the rest. His nose is perfectly straight and almost regal.

A Wildes, through and through.

However, Torin isn’t blood-related to Emilio. And if this is his cousin, I’m not sure if he’s on Torin’s side or Emilio’s.

Each one of us doesn’t give anything away because we don’t trust each other as we continue to silently challenge the opposing side to avert their gaze.

I’m not sure what it is about this dude, but the quiet ones are always the most dangerous, and it creeps me out. At least with Torin, he’s so petty that he’ll outline all his plans in one go.

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you want before I invite some people in here,” I warn, setting the idea in motion that I’m not alone.

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