Page 166 of Wicked Savage

I caused this. It’s my fault.

The realization slams into me like a bulldozer. If I hadn’t broken her heart, if I hadn’t pushed her away…

“It was a long time ago.” Konstantin cuts through my thoughts. “Don’t beat yourself up about it now.”

But I can’t stop it. My mind reels with the weight of what he just told me.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Ending the call abruptly, I drop the phone into the cup holder as I pull out of the parking lot, my pulse speeding just like I am.

I need to see her, to hold her, to apologize for everything over and over until I’m the one who forgives myself.

* * *

As I pull up to the house, I glance at the security monitors through my cell, finding Dinara out by the pool, reading a book, and it makes me wish I was right there beside her.

Then she shifts slightly, and her eyes flicker toward the left, where some of my men are stationed. There's a subtle change in her demeanor: her shoulders tense, her features tightening.

Why would the presence of guards make her nervous? She’s been around this life long enough.

But then I see it. One of my guys…he’s looking at her, and it’s not the usual respectful glance. No, this is different. It’s predatory. The kind of look that says he’s thinking about taking what doesn’t belong to him.

A cold fire ignites in my veins.

I don’t know if he’s stupid or just suicidal, but whatever it is, he’s about to learn a lesson he won’t soon forget.

No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell about it.

* * *

DINARA

The sun warms my skin as I lounge in the chair. Amara and Elara are gone, leaving me to pretend I’m lost in the pages of my book. But I’m not reading. Not really. Instead, my attention drifts, side-eyeing the bastard stationed by the pool.

Conall. That’s what I found out his name is. He’s been staring at me again, like he’s imagining things he has no right to.

I grip my book tighter, shifting slightly to make it clear Idonotice. It doesn’t deter him.

Maybe I should tell Cillian.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, the heavy doors to the estate swing open with a bang, and I nearly jump. Glancing behind me, I find my husband storming into the yard like a predator who’s already locked on to his prey. And the second I see him as he looks at me—his sharp jaw clenched, his dark eyes burning with rage—I know.

He already knows.

But how?

I don’t get a chance to react before he crosses the distance in a few long, furious strides. Conall barely has time to register what’s happening before Cillian’s fist grabs his shirt and yanks him forward.

“You thought you could look at my wife and I wouldn’t find out?”

Conall stumbles, his hands rising in a feeble attempt at defense. “Boss?—”

“Now you’re gonna find out what happens when you forget who the fuck you work for.” Cillian drags Conall right past the pool and slams him back against the stone pillar, his grip unrelenting.

The other guards don’t move or speak. They know better. They know Conall just signed his own death warrant.

“Tell me,” Cillian continues, his voice deceptively calm. “What exactly were you thinking while you stood there staring at my wife?”

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