I keep a grip on Talon’s shoulder, leaning in close, trying to talk him down with every damn ounce of calm I can muster. But he’s shaking—his body’s radiating pure violence. His breathing’s ragged, his eyes locked on her like she’s the devil herself.
And she just sits there.
Like, none of this is a big deal.
Then—“ENOUGH,” she snaps.
Sharp. Authoritative. Not loud—but it cuts like a blade.
The two boys freeze like she hit a kill switch. They holster their weapons instantly. Gabriella gives them a look that says it all––not now. That’s the first sign she might actually give a shit about keeping this civil.
Armand, though? He still hasn’t moved. That mountain of a man is lounging in his chair, arms crossed, eyes trained on Talon. Measuring him. Not like he’s worried—but like he’scurious. Like he’s wondering what kind of man loses his shit that fast. And from the way he’s just sitting there? I get the feeling Talon’s not the first wild animal he’s seen.
I feel the shift.
Talon starts to come down—just a little. His muscles ease under my grip. Not relaxed, but he’s not lunging either. Still, I don’t move. Neither does Nitro. We both know better. This is our president. Our blood. Our brother. We know him and have had to wrestle his demons for him before. This ain’t new—it’s just a hell of a lot louder than usual.
I step around to face him, keeping my hand firm on his shoulder. His chest is still heaving. His fists are clenched so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts bleeding. I lower my voice and cut through the storm.
“Talon.”
His eyes snap to me.
“You good?”
His stare is wild—feral. But behind the rage, I catch a flicker of the man I know. He closes his eyes, jaw flexing so tight I think he’s going to grind his teeth down to dust. He breathes—slow and sharp—like dragging oxygen through broken glass.
“No. But I will be.”
He says it like it’s a promise.
Not to me—to himself.
He sits down. Hard. Like his body gave out, or he forced himself into that chair before doing something he couldn’t return from. The table creaks under the tension in the room. Someone must’ve picked his chair up while he was losing his mind, because it wasn’t there a second ago. Now it is. Nitro and I sit on either side of him, forming a wall, just in case.
And across from us, Gabriella sits.
Cool as ice.
Like she doesn’t even see the way Talon’s looking at her, like she doesn’tfeelthe hate coming off him in waves. His stare is a death sentence. If looks could kill, she’d be a chalk outline right now.
And still, she doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t smile.
Don’t blink.
That’s when it hits me.
She’s not here by accident.
She knew what this would do to him.
She walked into this room, knowing exactly what kind of reaction she’d trigger. And she planned for it. That’s why she brought those two killers with her. That’s why she’s got that tank sitting next to her, pretending to be uninterested.
She’s playing a long game. And it’s got Talon by the throat.
I don’t know their history, but I know my brother. And if Gabriella Barone is connected to the pain, I just saw rip through him like a fucking bullet.
