Page 185 of The Sinner's Bargain

I pivoted towards the stairs.

This was my home. Thoran was my husband. If Jarrett thought he was going to just storm in, destroy my life again, and have me ... he had another thing coming. I wasn’t going to hide. I wasn’t Naya Blackwell anymore and I belonged next to my husband protecting our home.

Furious, I started forward when a familiar shadow lunged up the stairs and straight into my path. I nearly screamed until I recognized the face.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were still gone.” I hurried forward. “There are men—”

He nodded, eyes bright with fear. “They’ve gotten inside. Thoran wants me to take you somewhere safe.”

My chest thundered as I darted a glance past him. “Is Thoran—?”

He nodded. “He’s with Cyrus. They’re pushing back. He’s fine. Come on.”

I thought of Thoran telling me to stay in the bedroom, but things must have gotten out of hand.

“I want to help,” I tell him. “I don’t want to leave him alone—”

“He can handle this, but he’ll get distracted if you’re here.”

He was right. What did I know about fighting anyway? I would just get in the way. This way at least Thoran wouldn’t be worried about me.

“Okay,” I said.

I didn’t hesitate as I followed him deeper into the house.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

THORAN

The front gates lay in a heap of twisted iron across the yard, useless against the bulldozer that tore it off the hinges. No less than ten trucks fully loaded with heavily armed goons roared in after, but this was what my men were trained for. We were always ready for an attack. We had a backup plan for every backup plan. We didn’t take prisoners, nor was I about to as I instructed my elite crew of murderers and assassins to kill.

That bastard was not getting Naya. I would kill every last one of them with my bare hands before I allowed him to even look at her again. The fucker had no idea the demons he’d provoked or the monster willing to die to protect what was his.

Bullets pinged off metal and shattered windows. Engines roared as drivers were taken out. Head shots.

Sloppy.

Everyone knew you didn’t barge into enemy territory openly like that. You didn’t announce your attack. It was about skill and stealth. I knew they were coming ten minutes before they took the gates down. Ten minutes was nine minutes more than I should have been given. That was eight minutes too many before I had my men in place and their mission clear — kill everyone, except Brixton.

I wanted him.

He was mine.

For however long it pleased me, he was going to be my new toy. I had a whole basement designed for this very thing, but I wouldn’t be putting him under the same roof as Naya. I wouldn’t allow him to breathe her air or soil her home with the blood and filth he would be spilling. Ever since Naya told me what he’d done, hearing the pain and fear in her voice, reading between the fucking lines ... Brixton would not be allowed to die for a very long fucking time.

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