Page 28 of Ruthless Savage

My eyes lower to my feet. “You swear?”

Instead, I want to ask him how he can allow me to marry anyone but him. Is it that easy? Do I truly mean nothing at all?

“I swear it, love.”

That word. I instantly melt. I could listen to him say it over and over again.

Our eyes lock, and through it, he brushes a thumb over the corner of my mouth.

My breath catches, and my pulse spikes.

He holds my gaze, his throat straining, and I don’t so much as move, afraid of risking this moment, whatever it means.

My God, he smells good. And his chiseled jaw, the sharp edges of his face, that domineering appearance… It all does things to me.

I have no business feeling what I currently am. Yet here I am, feeling everything, wishing he was mine and I was his.

His cellphone rings, and it instantly has him dropping his hand off me and retrieving it.

“It’s your father,” he says before he answers. “Sir?”

I can’t hear what my father says, but Devlin focuses on me as he continues to listen.

“I’ll bring her right over.”

“What?” I whisper.

“We will see you in a few hours.”

When he drops the call, he stares at me, and there’s something there I can’t yet name. But it sends a jolt of anxiety through my limbs.

“What is it?” My heartbeats skip in my chest.

“Your father requested the family for a meeting. It’s important.”

“Why? I’m never included in those meetings. Why now?”

They’re for the rest of them, the killers.

“He said you must be there, so come on, we’ve gotta leave ASAP. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

With nerves jittering in my stomach, I run into the bathroom and grip the faucet, staring at myself in the mirror.

Something unsettling prances across my flesh, like a warning that whatever I’m about to walk into won’t be good at all.

CHAPTER 8

ERIU

We’ve been on the road for hours, and in a short while, we’ll be at my father’s. I texted my sister to find out if she’s heard about this meeting and if she’ll be there too, but she hasn’t called me back yet.

I glance over at a tense Devlin, his knuckles going almost white with how hard he grips the steering wheel.

He knows something. He has to. But he hasn’t said a word, even when I asked. I’m almost afraid to know why I’ve been invited. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t told me.

My body sags as I lay my head against the window.

“You alright?” he asks, the timbre of his voice low and deep.

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