Page 64 of Hunter

Not only has he touched what is not his to have, he has stood against me in betrayal. Tilly’s upcoming marriage is non-negotiable. I won’t allow any man to stand in the way.

“Next time you have to have an intimate conversation, Greyson,” I say, attempting to keep my voice calm. “Take the earpiece out. What the fuck is going on? If you’ve touched my niece…” I rip the earpiece off, throwing it on the floor and stamping on it in fury.

The insanity of the past few hours peaks. All the planning and negotiations, the organization of tonight that has all fallen to pieces, comes to a head. If I can’t find the man who fired the shots and ruined my night, I’ll take my wrath out on the next best thing—the man who touched my niece who wasn’t his to touch.

I run for the stairs, climbing them two at a time. Within moments, Damon is beside me, matching my stride step for step. We reach the penthouse suite, and I make a beeline for the door.

“What are you going to do?” Damon asks me.

“Kill him.”

“Hunter.” I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s strong and calm as he always is when dealing in a situation like this. The only time I’ve ever seen him at his lowest is when the people he loves are in danger, otherwise he’s a rock. “Think before acting. Greyson is a key asset.”

“Everyone is replaceable.”

“Not easily.”

As I turn back to the door, it opens, and I am standing face to face with the man I want to kill. My mind blanks, rage overriding reason. I trusted Greyson. He took advantage. That’s all the permission I need.

The blade leaves my fingers on impulse, lodging in his shoulder with slick precision. He grunts, then reaches up and pulls it free as if it’s no more than a toothpick.

“Not here, not in front of her.” He stares at me, almost impassive, resigned to the fate his actions have carved for him.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” I snarl, marching forward and taking my knife from his fingers. I swipe it upwards and place it against his throat.

“Uncle Hunter, please don’t hurt him,” Tilly wails. “He’s the reason I’m alive.”

And the reason my business dealings are now under threat, I think with disgust. I spare her a glance. She’s glares back at me, almost a reflection of myself, full of defiance. The nagging doubt that I’m making the wrong decision nips, but I can’t change course. Power before family, that’s how I was brought up. I need to see this through. “Let him go.”

“Back in your box, little princess,” I warn her.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Greyson says, and I increase the pressure of my knife on his skin. Red oozes down the metal. “Show some respect. She’s your family.” His continued protection of her catches me off guard. Greyson is doing what he can to help Tilly even though he knows his fate is sealed. There is no walking out of this alive for him.

His actions make me question myself for a moment. If this was a quick fumble due to opportunity, would he stand up to the head of the Irish mafia on his conquest’s behalf? Is there more to this than there appears? But Tilly and Greyson have known each other less than a month; no bond could be created strong enough that you would die for in such a short amount of time. I’ve loved Isabella for decades. This can’t be the same thing.

Damon steps up behind me, tapping my shoulder and whispering that this is not the appropriate setting for my revenge. I release Greyson, and Damon puts him in handcuffs. He grunts when his damaged arm is pulled around his back.

“Shut the fuck up, or no matter what McKinney says, I’ll castrate you in front of my damn reckless niece.”

Once Damon is happy his prisoner is restrained, we all make our way back to the elevator in silence. I don’t look at Tilly as the doors close. I don’t trust myself to, because in this moment, it’s not Rodion I want to kill, it’s Greyson ? and possibly the girl who gave him permission to touch her.

Damon watches me closely, as if waiting for me to crack. I don’t. I just lean back in the elevator, blood on my hands, betrayal in my chest, and my knife still warm.

“Remind me,” I say quietly, “what happens to men who forget their place?”

Damon doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

And for the first time in years, I don’t know if I’m protecting my empire or destroying it with my own hands.

Chapter thirty

Hunter's Residence, London

Isabella

Silence. The never-ending sound of nothing. It’s all I’ve heard since Ronan brought me home from the disaster of a New Year’s Eve gala that was meant to be the new beginning for so many of us. The journey home was laden with unsaid conversation. I wanted to ask my bodyguard what he knew, what had happened, what he heard, but the distance between us now is so vast. There are no blurred lines between employee and friend.

Upon arriving home, I had been escorted to Hunter’s room and requested to stay here until his return. I half expected the house to be filled with men, running around attempting to bring some sense to what had happened. The idea was ludicrous as they were all still at Clarion House searching for whoever had fired the shots.

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