Page 170 of Brutal Savage

Relief hits me. He’s alive.

“Tynan?” I whisper.

“Elara. You’re still up.”

The moment I hear his voice, tears blanket my vision, and my relief turns to anger.

“Where have you been?” I march forward until I’m standing right before him, unable to really see his eyes. “I’ve been calling and texting, and you didn’t even have the decency to respond?”

Emotions plague me. So many of them hitting me at once, I’m overwhelmed.

I want to kiss him. Yell at him. Then kiss him some more.

“Come here, baby.” He clasps the back of my head with a palm, his mouth stroking mine.

And in the dark, all the sensations are enhanced, igniting me.

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

My fingers sink into his hair and as I try to kiss him back, I gasp.

“What the hell?” I force myself backward, insane rage radiating through me.

That was perfume I smelled on him.

He was with a woman.

And that instant thought is like a blade to my heart, slicing it in half.

I didn’t think he could do that to me, but I was foolish, wasn’t I?

It’s what the Mafia men are known for, right? Whoring around on their significant others. Why would Tynan be any different?

“Elara?” he calls my name, yet I barely hear it. “What’s wrong?”

My chin trembles. So while I was worried sick, he was fucking someone. My heart is as heavy as a ton of bricks, and I just want to run. Or smack him. Or both, actually.

I swear I wanna kill him, and I hate myself for even getting this worked up!

I shouldn’t care. He’s not my husband, not really. It’s not like we met and fell in love and then got married.

He doesn’t love me.

He’ll never love me.

It’s what he said.

Of course he’d go out and fuck someone else while I was here, worrying about whether he was dead.

His palm falls to my waist, but I roughly push him away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I whisper-shout, not wanting to wake Ruby or Brody.

I step back even further, needing to be far away from him.

“Elara! Tell me what the hell just happened!” The lights suddenly turn on, and he’s there, still handsome, concern fitting his eyes as he marches forward.

But nausea hits my gut when I imagine what he could’ve been doing tonight.

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