Page 34 of The Wages of Sin

Instantly, I froze, too afraid to even breathe.

One second passed in silence…two seconds…three.

Another knock, this one louder.

Maybe it was a mistake—someone with the wrong address or a kid playing in the hall trying to prank his neighbors. Maybe whoever was out there would just go a?—

Scriiitch.

The sound of metal scratching against metal sounded as the doorknob began to jiggle. Oh shit—someone had found me, and they were picking the lock.

In desperation, I glanced toward my only window, but it was no good.

There was no fire escape, just a five-story sheer drop straight down to the street, meaning my choices were almost certain suicide or stand and fight.

With shaking hands, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the handle of my small cast iron skillet—the closest thing I had to a weapon. Then, as silently as I could, I slid over to the wall, ready to hide in the door’s shadow when it opened.

And only a couple of seconds later, it did just that—slowly creaking open as my heart pounded in panic against my breastbone.

I gripped the handle of the pan tighter as one careful footstep creaked against my floorboards…then two. The sliver of a shoulder came into view, the back of a head. This was my chance.

I sprung forward, iron pan held high above my head, ready to bring it down on whichever bastard had been sent to kill me.

But before I could, the intruder spun around, his reflexes lightning fast. One massive hand circled my wrist, immobilizing it instantly, while the other gripped my shoulder, pinning my other arm helplessly to my side.

“Kiera.”

The adrenaline rush started to fade when I heard my name—my real name. Only one person in this city knew it.

“Dorian.”

Instead of letting me go, he pulled me in closer, wrapping me fully in his arms and crushing me against his chest. Surrounded by his embrace, I started to breathe again. I let go of the frying pan, and it clattered against the floor.

He stood there, simply holding me, for at least a full minute before finally leaning back. His expression darkened as he took in the sight of my face. The muscles lining his jaw hardened as his eyes turned to ice.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

I tried to tilt my face to the floor, but he lifted my chin, forcing me to face him.

I wasn’t sure why.

Even though a week had passed, I still hadn’t fully recovered from Carlo’s assault. The black eye he’d given me had only grown uglier as it started to fade. Instead of simple black and blue, my cheek was now painted with ugly swirls of yellow, brown, and orange. At least the swelling has gone down.

“I’m okay,” I tried to assure him. “It looks worse than it is. Nothing’s broken. I had a concussion for a couple of days, but there’s no permanent damage.”

Far from being reassured, he was growing angrier. “Tell me what happened, Kiera.”

This time, it wasn’t a question; it was a command.

“One of my clients got handsy and then got upset when I told him no.” It might have been a massive understatement, but it was still technically true.

But if I’d hoped that by dialing down the severity of the attack, I could temper Dorian’s anger, I was terribly mistaken.

His face turned red as the cords along his neck stood out.

“Did he…” His words trailed off as his jaw began to grind in rage, but I knew what he was asking.

“No.” I shook my head. “I kneed him in the nuts and knocked him out with a bowling trophy before he could do anything more than land a punch.”

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