Page 184 of The Sinner's Bargain

He shook his head. “I would rather take a nap with my wife.”

It was three in the morning when Cyrus slammed his fist into the door, jerking Thoran from my arms.

“Stay here,” he said, throwing back the covers and grabbing for his trousers just as Cyrus barged in.

I barely had time to gather the sheets to my chest, but his eyes sought and locked only on Thoran’s.

“There are men with guns trying to get in,” he said, paused, then added, “Ak-47.”

“Brixton.” Thoran dressed hurriedly. “How many men?”

“Unclear. There are about ten vehicles headed our way.”

I stiffened. “Jarrett’s here?”

Thoran met my gaze unwavering. “Not for long. Don’t leave this room. Cyrus will stay with you.”

“No!” Sheets held to my chest, I scrambled up onto my knees. “I’ll stay here but you are taking Cyrus. Don’t argue with me.”

He muttered a curse before he marched back and grabbed the back of my head. His mouth was unyielding and possessive closing over mine.

“I love you,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

I touched his face. “You better.”

With a final kiss, he stormed past Cyrus and disappeared around the corner.

“Cyrus,” I called before the other man could follow. I met his gaze across the dimly lit room. “Bring him back to me.”

He inclined his head and shut the door.

I grabbed Thoran’s discarded shirt and slipped it on before rushing to the door and hurrying to my closet room, regretting not letting Thoran build a door between the two rooms. But there was no time to think about that when I knew I needed to get dressed. I needed to be ready in case Thoran needed me. I couldn’t just sit naked in bed while Jarrett tried to come into my home.

I dressed hurriedly in black tights and a loose, black sweater. I tied my hair back and added a pair of flats.

It wasn’t fighting attire, but it was comfortable and easy to run in if needed.

Feeling a little less off balance, I hurried to return to Thoran’s room just as the first shot rang out. There was a deafening crash of glass and metal and more rapid pops that made my skin feel clammy. My stomach cold. My heart seized with terror as I thought of Thoran out there with Jarrett and his goons.

There wasn’t a doubt in me that Thoran would win. This was his house and unlike Thoran, Jarrett wasn’t a killer. At the end of the day, Jarrett was a spoiled rich kid who thought he could have anything he wanted with money he didn’t deserve. Family money. Family wealth. Without his name, he had nothing.

Whereas Thoran lived in this dark world. He was merciless, cold, ruthless, as much as he was kind and gentle.

Someone screamed.

I heard the wail roll through the corridor. It almost sounded like it was coming from just downstairs, not the front.

The cold tongue of fear skated up my spine. I knew there was no way Jarrett could have gotten past Thoran into the house.

Something slammed behind me and I cried out. I nearly slipped on my flats spinning to face the windows in the murky dusk.

The middle panel swung in on silent hinges. Undone from the lock, it framed the fog and wilderness outside and hung open as if in invitation.

“Abigail?” I whispered, though I didn’t understand why she would want me at the window, nor did I move.

Another scream.

Definitely from somewhere in the house. The window was forgotten as I grabbed the knob and hurried out into the corridor. My feet paused on the carpet as I tried to decide if I should check in case someone needed help or run back to Thoran’s room like I was told.

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