Page 101 of At Your Mercy
No clue who Dorian was, but alright.
Wes’s arm tightened around my waist in a subtle warning. “Enough, Hayes.”
“What?” Hayes tilted his head, grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s cute. Kind of domestic, even. Brings a tear to my eye. You’ve never shown any interest in dating, and nowthisis what you go for.” He gave me an exaggerated once-over, then whistled.
I blinked, a startled laugh bubbling out of me before I could stop it. “Nice to meet you, too, dickhead.”
Hayes snorted. “Just calling it how I see it. You look like you’re barely out of college, and Uncle Wes here—” He gestured toward him with a lazy wave. “He’s got that silver-fox thing going on. You guys would make a fucking fortune on OnlyFans.”
“Hayes,” Wes growled, voice low.
But Hayes only grinned wider, clearly entertained by the vein that had started to twitch in Wes’s temple. “Relax. I’m justkidding around. None of us expected you to actually start dating, let alone someone who looks like they could be your—”
“Finish that sentence,” Wes warned, “and I’ll remind you exactly who taught you how to shoot.”
That shut him up—mostly. Hayes threw up his hands in surrender, though the smirk never faded. “Touchy.”
I had to bite back a grin. The tension in the room cracked a little, replaced by the faint hum of amusement.
“I’m twenty-nine, if that makes a difference.”
Wes huffed. “They know that. They’re just being assholes.”
A knock filled the air, drawing everyone’s attention to the other side of the room.
I followed their gazes to Elias’s glass cell. The bastard was lounging in the corner, head tipped, eyes gleaming with smug interest—like a wolf behind glass. Watching. Listening.
He’d heard every word.
And from the faint curl of his lips, he wasenjoyingit.
“Cute family reunion,” Elias rasped, voice muffled through the enclosure.
Wes’s hand left my waist. “I think it’s time to remind him why he’s here,” he said, his voice sharp again.
Whatever lightness Hayes had stirred with his joke evaporated, replaced by a cold, electric focus.
Elias sat forward, eyes locked on me. “Come on then, sweetheart. Let’s see what kind of man you’ve become.”
23
Wesley
“I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Ro said.
Something in me had gone still, watching him cross the room toward the glass cell that held Elias—his abuser, his teacher, his pimp, his nightmare. The bastard was sitting on the floor, his wrists cuffed, his posture lazy. His eyes held a strange sort of excitement for what was to come.
Ro stopped just short of the glass, close enough that his reflection overlapped Elias’s face. I could see the tremor in his fingers and the tension in his jaw, but he didn’t flinch.
“I was beginning to think you’d never come,” Elias rasped, his voice gravelly from dehydration. “That you planned to leave me here to rot.”
“I had to recover from being shot by one of your men, so yeah, it took a bit of time,” Ro said. His tone was level—too level. I’d seen that tone before, in killers who’d learned to turn theiremotions into armor. It made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“I’m sorry about that. But it looks like you’re healing well?”
“Yeah.”
“How are you going to kill me?” Elias tilted his head, eyes still bright with the curiosity that comes with being insane.
