‘With me.’
Shan gestured that they follow him. The group trailed behind him up a short flight of stairs into a spacious room.
It was light-filled, characterized by soft silk drapes and an airy, cool ambiance. Shan jerked his chin at a pair of chairs in front of a leather couch and a daybed. They sat, and moments later, a figure stepped into the room.
Zolan.
Mak half-rose toward the man, but Kaal held him back, his fingers biting into Mak’s upper shoulder. ‘Calm now, brother. Your wife’s life depends on it.’
His gambit worked, and Mak simmered down, glaring at Zolan.
Zolan met his gaze unapologetically, jerking a nod at him without malice in his eyes, and that surprised Mak.
Instead, he found an uncharacteristic serenity within them.
What game was Zolan playing?
Zolan settled himself in a leather armchair at one end, finishing his conversation.
His sonorous voice, even in a murmur, resonated with authority.
Kaal and Mak exchanged a look.
Soon, Zolan wrapped up his call and placed his device on the table between them.
He reclined in his chair, his arms crossed and a half-smile on his face. Shan gave him a chin and disappeared.
‘This morning, I meditated,’ Zolan said, his manner nonchalant. ‘I sought to be sober, well-balanced, self-disciplined, alert, and cautious at all times because a deep sense told me my enemy was prowling toward me like a roaring lion. Thankfokkfor prescient sight.’
Mak raised a brow and clenched his jaw, holding back his frustration.
‘Zolan, you made your move. We came, and now give me my woman,’ Mak growled.
Two men entered the room.
The first was slight yet super fit, his muscles bunched as if he had lifted weights too much.
His mouth was a slash of disapproval. He had weasel-like energy, and at that instant, Mak disliked him, sensing uncoiled scorn in the way he glared at him.
‘This is Ladik, our consigliere,’ Zolan said.
The second man was taller, leaner, and wily, with the cunning eyes of a hungry fox.
Mak’s senses roiled at the sight of him.
‘This is Enzo, who runs security with Shan.’
Mak nodded at the newcomers but kept his focus on Zolan. ‘Where is Saba?’
‘Relax, she’s with Shan and with family.’
‘With Shiloh, you mean. The bride you stole from me.’
Zolan’s brow rose. ‘She came of her own free will.’
‘You’re a nasty piece of work,’ Mak drawled. ‘First, you steal one sister promised to me, then you invade my home with my current wife alone, and follow that genius move by kidnapping her. Tell me, Zolan, why should I refrain from ripping you apart?’
Mak bared his fangs, leaning forward, ready to pounce. Anger pulsed through his veins, hotter and more intense with every passing second.
