Page 16 of Dragonfly

“Him?” Damien echoes, cutting me off. “You mean Vin?”

The man who’s holding so tightly to my arm, it feels like he’s about to tear it off? “Uh-huh.”

“Vin didn’t see anything,” he says calmly. “Did you, Vin?”

Too calmly for a man with a knife sticking out of his side.

Am I dead? Is that it? The big oaf snapped my neck without warning, and now this is some split-second dream before my brain gets the memo that I’m gone?

Maybe—

“Nothing, boss,” he rumbles grumpily.

“See? You have nothing to worry about,” Damien says, and that’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever head one. “If you say ‘yes’ and agree to be my loyal bride, the only ones who ever need to know how this happened are us three. Say ‘no’ and, well, there’s only one sentence for betrayal in the Libellula family.”

“Death.”

“That’s right, Vin. Death.”

Ah. He couldn’t make himself any clearer with that last statement. If anyone betrays him… by forcing me to marry him, he’s giving me a second chance. He’s basically buying that loyalty he mentioned, but it comes with a price for me. If I betray him, I’m dead.

If I go to prison, I’m dead.

If I agree to be his wife, I’m probably dead even so…

But no matter what it takes, I’m going to take this man with me.

This man?—

“Yes.”

—my soon-to-be husband.

SIX

NEEDLE AND THREAD

DAMIEN

Beneath the sophisticated veneer, I’m a stubborn, ruthless man. Always have been, and it’s only become more noticeable with age. I need to be in control, too, and usually am.

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that—even with my stiletto sticking out of my side and the pain beginning to creep up the longer it’s in there—I have every intention of driving myself to see Elizabeth.

I’ve been stabbed before. My blade is actually a memento from the first gangster who tried to gut me back when I was still running for Gunner. He wanted the cash I was carrying, but his aim was no better than Savannah’s. Just like her, he barely got through my jacket and my shirt. No organs were nicked, just fat and muscle, and I yanked that sticker out before slicing the kid’s throat with his own knife.

I didn’t know better then and, even if he didn’t do much damage with the point, I nearly bled out anyway. Fifteen years of experience later and despite how much I want to grab that same knife out, I keep it where it is. Until I can get checked out by our doc, it’ll act like a plug and keep me on my feet.

It hurts. It fucking hurts. Luckily for me, my pain tolerance is high enough to pretend like it doesn’t. I want little miss murderer here to be thrown off by my nonplussed reaction to her attempt, especially since I’m going to use it to my advantage.

She tried to kill me. Why? I don’t know. I still haven’t figured out why she’s been following me, either… but I will.

I’ve spent my whole life abiding by the old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It’s the reason I insist on frequent dinners with Lincoln. Why I handle every interaction with the vice mayor personally instead of passing it off to one of my lieutenants, or someone in my inner circle like Michael or Vin.

And it’s why I’m going to take this woman, make her mine like she’s been for months now, and bring her to her knees where she belongs.

If I have to break her, I will. I look forward to it, too. From the first moment I picked up on her following me, stalking me, I’ve been intrigued. I won’t deny that. Maybe even obsessed with the promise of what kind of woman she is.

She’s nothing like I’ve ever had before. I’m used to women willing to throw themselves in my bed, and as much fun as that was, it’s too easy. Nothing about Savannah Montgomery will be—and I like the idea of that more than I should.

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