Page 47 of Deadly Little Hearts

“It’s empty.The last few weapons shipments have been short.”

Fucking hell, we need to sort this shit out.We can’t be losing stock.This isn’t good for business.I step out of his way, and movement near one of the rows of shipping containers catches my eye.A shadow rushes into a container before I have a chance to see who it is.

I hurry in that direction, bringing my gun out of my pants, the cool metal resting against my sweaty palm.I come to a stop outside the large shipping container door.It’s open, but as I look inside, rows and rows of crates stare back at me.

Moving inside, I hide behind one of the crates and listen.“Come out and play, dead little birdie.This cat is hungry!”I yell into the dark space.

Feet slap against the concrete floor.I peek around the crate and catch sight of a familiar mop of chestnut-brown hair.

What the fuck is she doing here?

Chapter 25

Freya

Myheartthumpssoloudly I can’t hear anything else.I can feel him near, closing in on me.I shouldn’t have followed him here, but I didn’t have anything else to do.I’ve been bored shitless the last couple of days, moping around Hazen’s mansion.Although my new bedroom feels like a safe haven, even those four walls have started closing in.

Kai’s been dodging my messages, and I’m pissed off.If he thinks I’ve chosen them over him, he’s a dickhead.I didn’t choose to get kidnapped and taken away from him, but he won’t see it that way.I did text him and tell him that, but he’s not interested—probably thinks it’s an excuse.

Amirah’s been preoccupied doing God knows what, so I’ve been left to my own devices.I spent the first day here online shopping on Hazen’s credit card, restocking my wardrobe and getting my skincare essentials.There are only so many places to explore in Hazen’s house, since the boys won’t let me leave without their approval.That’s resulted in more than one argument; they know better than to keep me locked up.

I needed to do something, and when Lucas left, I didn’t hesitate to follow him.

My back presses against one of the crates.I don’t move a muscle, afraid I’ll give away my location.This is what I’ve been craving—that sensation of my heart exploding out of my chest.The danger of getting caught at any moment.In some fucked-up way, it helps me feel free.It makes me feel alive.Having nothing to do drives me crazy.All the thoughts become too loud, too much.They are silent when I’m on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump, or in a dangerous position like this.

I open my mouth and let out a low, bird-like whistle before moving around the crate with a playful smile on my lips.Lucas said this cat is hungry, and I’ll play the helpless little birdie for him.I want to get caught; I want to be punished.

A faint exhale is so close, I shuffle nearer to the edge of the crate and peer around it.Hands wrap around my waist, and I scream.A palm covers my mouth from behind, and I bite down hard into his finger.He curses, shoving me away, and my back hits the crate hard.Pain bites into my skin.

My gaze clashes with Lucas’s angry light-brown eyes.“Naughty little birdie, what am I going to do with you?”

I bite into my lower lip.“Punish me?”I ask, but it’s more of a beg.

His eyes shift to a darker brown.“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”He steps forward, closing in on me.The air around us shifts, the coolness turning warm.Hot.My skin burns, itching to be touched by him.

He hasn’t touched me since before that night, and I want him.I crave him.Please touch me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”he growls, his eyes narrowing.

“Following you because I’ve got nothing better to do with my time.”I shrug and he releases a heavy breath.

“Why is it impossible to stay mad at you?”he asks, like I have the answer.

I don’t, but I know what I want, and if he doesn’t give it to me, then I’ll take it—without his permission.

“Why can’t I just walk away?”he whispers, perhaps more to himself than me.

I answer anyway.“Because you know as well as I do that our souls are connected.Drawn together like fire to wood, and no matter how far you try to run, the flame always follows.”

I want to run the other way, to put distance between us, but I can’t.No matter what I do, I’m always drawn back to him.To them.

As Lucas runs a finger along my jaw, he stares at me, his brown eyes glistening over.He’s fighting an internal battle; it’s evident in those eyes.

“I hate that I love you,” he whispers, and my mouth becomes dry.

I stare at him, waiting for him to take it back—to say that he lied, that he doesn’t love me.The one person who truly loved me is now dead.I want to yell and scream, to tell him that he can’t.I’m too broken.But the words clog in my throat.

I lower my gaze, staring at the ground.I killed his mother, took away his family.How could he possibly tell me he still loves me?

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