Page 21 of Bound By Her

Her father used to say:Feeling will get you killed.

Maybe this time, it would.

Outside, the sun dipped behind the house. Pink and orange streaked the sky, painting the estate in firelight.

From where she sat, it looked like the house was burning.

CHAPTER 6

CHICAGO

While Bryson raged, his father remained silent, glued to his phone for most of the ride home.

“She’s delusional. We would never agree to that bitch’s terms,” Bryson spat.

He knew his father was playing a game, he always was, but letting a Federov believe she’d won, even for a second?

The whole thing was absurd. His father was furious over his lack of focus, and this was his response? Threatening to sell him?

It was over the top, even for him.

As his father continued tapping away on his phone, Bryson took full advantage of the distraction. He reached for the car’s brandy, pouring himself a glass, and fired off a quick text to Kaydon.

Be home in thirty.

The message sent; he tossed back the first drink.

“Can you believe she bought it?” he asked the car’s interior, eyes wild with disbelief. He poured another. “The nerve of her, to think she could own a Winters.”

Down went the second glass. A third followed immediately after.

“We do not kneel,” he muttered, voice low but burning.

The brandy dulled the edges of his temper, and as the car wound its way down the long, familiar driveway, Bryson felt the worst of it melt away. He was almost home. Back to Seth and Kaydon. They would know how to handle him.

They always did.

They’d pour drinks. Mock Adria. Take turns ripping her to pieces—verbally, at least.

He looked up toward the house, his gaze locking on his bedroom window. Seth was usually there, peeking through the curtains, waiting for him. Watching for trouble. Kaydon pretended not to worry, but he always did. It was in his blood. His duty as Right Hand.

But the window was dark. Empty.

“When you’re ready to have a civilized conversation,” Callen said, stepping out of the car, “meet me in my office.”

Bryson didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the third-floor window.

His father hadn’t said everything. That much was clear. There was more to discuss. Likely something he didn’t want spoken aloud, even in front of the driver. Odd, considering all household staff were branded to the Winters.

Still, Bryson didn’t move.

He would see his brothers first.

Then, he would face his father.

It was a massive house, enormous by most standards,divided into four distinct wings: one for staff, one for business, one for his father, and one for Bryson. His wing had once belonged to him and his two siblings, but with Luca dead and Elena in exile, Bryson was the only one left.

The brandy swam heavy in his gut as he climbed the stairs. His head buzzed, and his breath quickened as he reached the landing. No voices. No greeting. The hallway was still.

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