SILAS
Ialmost turn around and put my fist through the fucker’s face. My fingers flex as I stand in the open doorframe, already calculating which camera feeds I’d have to wipe and how many bodies I’d need to hide—but then I see her.
My sister has Erik in a tight hug, Mavros is welcomed by my brothers, but Evie stands there with her big brown eyes staring up at me. Waiting. Resurrecting the withered, useless organ inside my chest.
She’s wearing a loose crop top paired with baggy sweats and sneakers. Her wine-colored hair is thrown up in a bun, wisps left loose to frame her face. The splash of freckles across her cheeks is amplified by the gorgeous-as-fuck blush spreading across them.
“Hi,” she mumbles.
It takes me three steps to reach her. My hand wraps around her throat as my other weaves into the short curls at the back of her head, tugging until her neck arches and her pouty lips part on a gasp. I’m on her in the next breath, my tongue sweeping against hers, devouring her sweet taste, consuming the faint hints of wildflowers and rain that clingto her.
Her pulse quickens beneath my fingers, her heart fluttering as her knees weaken. A desperate growl rumbles in my chest just as someone clears their throat, and I temper my baser instincts enough to pull back. I’m rewarded with the sight of Evie’s swollen lips and heavily lidded eyes.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“Uhhh… guys?” Erik says, half teasing, half imploring. I catch faint grumbling from the officers, but my gaze stays locked on the gift in front of me. “I think you’re about to be arrested for indecent exposure, and I’m pretty sure they separate the girls from the boys.”
The sheepish smile that spreads across Evie’s face has me grinning like a fool. For the first time in my life, I set my need for revenge aside and focus only on this moment.
“Let’s go.”
Gravel crunches under my boots, the engine thrums beneath my thighs, and Evie’s small arms tighten around me. Noctis has already sent a team to retrieve the car Tempest and Evie left at the precinct, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting either of them out of my sight until her family is dealt with.
“Where are we going?” Evie asks through her helmet as we fly past the exit for the house she’s come to know. The road opens up before us, and my brothers bask in the light of the stars as we follow the freeway south.
“Home,” I rumble.
“But—” Evie starts, before Tempest cuts her off.
“Remember how I said we’ve got you covered if your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks?” Tempest asks. She’s a car length or so ahead of us, arms wrapped around Erik’s waist.
“Yeah,” Evie answers warily.
“That was a real promise,” Tempest says as we turn off the highway and onto a winding road through the canyon. “We can’t be showy about it, of course, or the feds would get suspicious, but every pervert we’ve put down ends up donating asmall portion of their fortune to a group of rebels whose main purpose is ridding the filth from our streets.”
A small breath escapes Evie as we pull into a long driveway. A Spanish estate comes into view. It sits atop the canyon, the low moon a backdrop as light spills from massive arched windows. Palm trees frame white columns along the sprawling adobe-style porch, the red-tiled roof and white stucco walls adorned with intricate details.
“This is our home,” I say, pressing my hand over hers where it still grips my waist.
Motorcycle engines cut, and then my brothers and little sister make their way toward the large wooden door inset with elaborate designs. Tempest spares a brief smile for us before crossing the threshold and disappearing inside with the others.
Evie stays on the bike, legs wrapped around mine, hands clasped in front of me—refusing to let go.
“Are you okay, baby?”
I feel her stiffen. Hear the sharp intake of breath through the mic. Maybe this is all too much. Killing Mark, defying her family, seeing the house—the life we could have. She’s finally realizing how deeply I’ve woven her into my world… and she’s afraid.
Shit, I’m afraid. She must be terrified.
I’m prepared to beg—no, fuck that. I’m ready to throw her over my shoulder and toss her into my room, refusing to let her go until she understands how fucking right we are—when she speaks.
“I can never go back home.” Her voice is soft, barely carrying through the speaker. “He’ll be angry. So angry.”
The fine hairs on the back of my arms prick at the tremor in her voice. My grip tightens on the handlebars as I fight to keep my breathing even.
“Who?”
“Jonathan.” She sniffles. “My half-brother. My mother andfather will be upset too, but… I’m almost twenty, and Jonathan set up this lunch for me to meet his friend, Father Michael’s son, and I know—I know—he wants me to marry him.”
