“No one will ever control me again.” I meet his eyes without a hint of fear. “Do you understand me?”
“Protecting you and controlling you are two different things!”
“Maybe to you. To me? I see another man attempting to dictate my life to me.”
“You know I’d never do that. Especially not after what you’ve been through.”
“Do I?” I snap back. “Listen to yourself. Listen to what you’re asking from me, then and tell me it doesn’t sound like you’re making decisions for me.”
He bounces from foot to foot, visibly itching to close the distance I’ve forced between us. “Let’s back up. That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“You’re calling me unstable! Tell me, have you said the same thing to Warner?”
Stumped, Hyland can’t find the words to argue.
“Right. I didn’t think so.”
Turning my back on his darkening expression, I snatch my discarded water bottle and towel in my rapidly swelling hands, intent on getting the hell away from him.
My sore legs carry me towards the exit at speed, needing as much space between us as possible. I don’t look back until I’ve reached the swinging double doors, finding him unmoved across the room.
“You are either on my side, by my side… or in my fucking way.”
His eyebrows shoot up into jagged spikes, though his mouth still doesn’t move.
“So choose wisely.”
CHAPTER 2
EMBER
COLD – CHRIS STAPLETON
One day.
One more fucking day.
My inner mantra grows louder as I wave at Archer, frowning from behind the steering wheel. The leader of the Falcon Team soon drives off in his company SUV. Spending the commute home in his company was far more appealing than crawling back to Hyland to catch a ride.
Undoubtedly, I’m in for an ass kicking when my other teammates hear that I skipped my regular appointment with the flower-obsessed Doctor Richards. Seriously, that dude needs to go shopping for new shirts or find a semi-sane stylist.
With a sigh, I head up to the apartment.
One day, then I’m doing things my way.
When I signed up to join the Anaconda Team, I thought I was getting a shot at justice. Perhaps even a way to put all the shit I’ve witnessed and endured to good use. I didn’t sign up for a group of overbearing alpha-holes to control my life. Least of all Hyland.
“Possessive asshole,” I mutter angrily.
Great. Talking to myself now too.
Freedom is going really well for me, clearly.
Our team’s penthouse apartment is on the top floor of a multimillion-pound skyscraper in the illustrious Canary Wharf, deep in London’s glittering financial district. It’s luxurious, though I’d be lying if I said this place felt like home.
The plush carpet absorbs my furious footsteps when I escape the elevator on the top floor to head for the penthouse. Even the hallway is dripping in opulent luxury, lit by huge chandeliers and thick, tinted windows.
Warner has a vast array of security measures set up, from fingerprint recognition built into the apartment’s defences to paid agents guarding the building itself. Even before Tom was kidnapped, he’s always taken safety seriously.
