Page 103 of Fierce Monarch

Laughing, I tipped my head back. “Thank you for not fighting me.”

“Mmm-hmm. I’ll take my payment in sexual favors.” His grin was salacious, but a loud yawn cracked his jaw, and I laughed.

“You’ll settle for help washing your back now and an IOU for later.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, letting me clean him off before helping me do the same.

By the time we were both dried and in bed, waiting for Grey to join us, we had no shortage of yawns, but I wasn’t tired. Even when our third hauled himself into the room, curling around my back like he could protect it even in sleep, I couldn’t rest.

Dominic lasted a few more minutes before laughing at my huffing and puffing. “What’s wrong, mariposa?”

What wasn’t wrong? “I’m worried we won’t get him out in time.”

I didn’t need to say Nate’s name; we all knew who I was talking about. Greyson, who never fell asleep before everyone else, squeezed me tight in agreement. When Dominic didn’t immediately shoot down my fears, I let us lapse back into silence.

Eventually, he cuddled me closer, burying his face in my hair. “So am I.”

Did that mean he was willing to forgive Nate? Even if it took years, just the idea of a steady, united group brought me unfathomable levels of comfort. Not willing to risk the fragile peace we’d created, I kissed his chest, refusing to poke at such a sore topic.

Instead, I turned to a much more important one. “When were you going to tell me you got stabbed in jail?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nate

“Where have you been?”

I hadn’t even made it in the door of the compound before he was on my case. Normally, my first thought would’ve been to check what mood Cash was in, a habit I’d adopted long ago. But this time, the words grated. My shoulder ached from the burns I’d gotten—despite already getting them taken care of—my lungs were on fire, and my brother thought he deserved to know my every move because he thought he owned me. Because he did own me.

Not to mention that I’d just walked away from the people I knew were my real family after getting what was as close to Dominic’s acceptance as possible at the moment, just to come back into this hellhole of a life. I hated it here. I hated Cash.

All of this was for Mari—her safety and protection—but I couldn’t force myself to pretend to be a good little soldier right now. Not when I could still see her splayed out on the floor of that house, the flames licking too fucking close to her skin for comfort. I wasn’t sure I’d ever sleep again with that image burned into my brain.

“Out.”

I made my way to one of the couches in the massive, mostly empty party room and groaned as I sank into the cushions. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t dare sit on them since I knew what the others got into out here, but I needed a fucking break. Two seconds and I’d get up and disinfect myself.

Cash smirked, saying nothing about the unusual insolence. He didn’t have to. The quiet cock of a gun was enough of a response.

Since I’d returned to the Aces, one thought had bounced around my head over and over until I thought I’d lose my mind from the sheer repetition.

Why didn’t I go against Cash sooner?

The answer was staring at me from the other side of that gun. A faceless peon who watched my brother like he was the sun, moon, and stars combined. Cash himself was unstable, but it wasn’t just him. He had an army of misinformed and misaligned humans at his back. Men who were too weak to walk away from what he offered.

Blow, money, women, and power—in that order.

Our father had taught Cash that weak minds were easier to control. Mario had taught him everyone had a price. Combining those schools of thought gave Cash his philosophy—find a man’s weakness, and you find what it takes to control them, regardless of the strength of their mind.

“The hit in jail failed,” I said, rubbing a hand over my jaw as if I was annoyed at the situation. I was, but not for the same reason as my brother, whose face shifted in agitation. “It was Dominic who went to jail, not Mari.”

“The guard dog,” Cash corrected. “I’m aware.”

“We had to shift things last minute, and it obviously didn’t work out. Apparently, she’s got more protection on the inside than we expected.”

Cash frowned, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on his chair. My eyes narrowed in on those fingers, watching the faintest twitch as they touched down, and I cursed myself for not doing it sooner. Cash was fearless when high and reckless when he was coming down, but his instability always grew to unparalleled levels when he was jonesing.

Once, I’d seen him gut a man with a dull kitchen knife because he’d mispronounced a word. When he was done, he apologized before snorting a line right in front of the guy, immediately going back to laughing and making plans.

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