Page 68 of Pretty Little Threats

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Huffing, I step in front of her before she can shift away. Her hazel eyes glittering with tears, Rose glares at me, a bright red mark coloring one of her cheeks, fingerprints on her chin—not mine. My gaze slides over her body, needing to confirm she’s not hurt anywhere else. A sharp ringing fills my ears as I spot the marks on her arm, new ones right next to the bruises Eric left behind. Bright, almost violent pink, the marks are so vivid, I can see exactly where each of Joseph’s fingers touched her skin.

He hurt her? She may have been a Miller yesterday, but today, she’s a Richardson, and I always protect my family from those who would do them harm.

White-hot fire shoots through my veins. My jaw clenches and my nostrils flare as I exhale one long breath as I lift my gaze to meet Rose’s once more. She’s still glaring at me, like I’m the reason for all her troubles, but behind that anger is vulnerability.

Every instinct screams at me to defend her.

She’s my wife.

No one touches what’s mine. The only marks I want on her skin are from when I fuck her senseless. But these? These violent bruises? Unacceptable. Turning as theelevator reaches the first floor, I jam my finger into the button to close the doors.

“No.” The word trembles out of her.

“Yes,” I snarl, pushing the button to return to Joseph’s level.

The attendant Irene turns a smile on us, ready to do her job, but it falls when she sees my face. I can’t blame her. I’m clenching my jaw so hard, my molars might crack and my eyebrows are drawn down.

She glances at Rose, as if to make sure she’s okay, and a little gasp slips out of her before she can stop herself. So, the bruises are as prominent as I think they are. Fury rattles through me. Irene glances back at me in accusation, but I give a hard shake of my head and lift my eyes, communicating that the one responsible is still up in his office. Understanding slides across her face right as the elevator doors shut.

Rose’s breaths come quick and shallow. “Dare, you can’t.”

I pin her with a look, hating the way my chest clenches at the sudden desperation on her face. “I can,” I tell her, turning toward her and hating the way she flinches. She’s done that before because of my reputation, but now, the recoil is for a different reason. And I hate it. I hate the new layer of fear. I hate that she’s scared. I hate that I fucking care. I hate that I failed to keep her safe. “I should have stayed.”

But she asked me to leave. I thought I was giving her what she wanted.

She presses her lips together.

The elevator doors glide open. I’m out before she can grab me, striding confidently down thecorridor, aware of her quickened pace, her frantic breaths, the terror. My fists clench at my sides.

Killing to protect my family is one thing. Hurting a woman because she’s made you mad? Reprehensible. Despicable. Weak. Joseph Miller might be one of the richest men in the world, but he’s a waste of space.

“Excuse me!” The receptionist’s voice chases after us.

Too late, buddy.

My hand grasps the handle of the door, and I shove it open. The metal knob cracks against the drywall. Oops. Joseph slams his phone against the desk and stands.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarls.

It’s hard to believe that, at one point, right after I’d lost my parents and this man betrayed me on the stand, I was scared of him. Now, when I storm toward him, it’s Joseph whose face goes pale. It’s him who flicks his gaze around, trying to find an escape.

I reach and grab his collar before he can run, practically dragging his body over the desk until our faces are a foot apart.

Rose gasps. “Dare, stop!”

Why is she still defending him?

As my gaze burns into Joseph’s, I drop every wall I keep up, unleash the beast he’s made, and let every way I’ve pictured his death flood my mind. Joseph’s face slackens; he’s afraid of the monster he’s created. But it’s not enough.

Heart beating against my chest, I grab his crotch and twist, gripping him so tightly, he almost retches. I move my mouth to his ear, ignoring his pained cries. It’s still not enough. I keep enough distance that I don’t touch his oily skin, but close enough that only Joseph will hear me. “If you ever touch my wife again, I’ll kill you,” I whisper, pulling back to hold his gaze.

There should be a burst of satisfaction in my chest the moment I see Joseph realize that Rose isn’t his anymore. Sure, she may still love her dad, but none of that matters. The moment she saidI do,she became mine, and even if she hates me until the day I die, no one hurts my wife.

I squeeze his nuts a little harder.

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