Page 122 of Power's Fall

Fuck.

Eric flung a square pillow hard enough that it flew all the way across his apartment and smacked into the stone wall, exploding in a puff of white feathers.

“Did you have a fight before this?” Juliette asked.

Eric wasn’t even sure why he was still having this conversation, except that there was no one he could talk to about this. Regina, the captain of his Spartan Guard, had no problem making her feelings known, which was precisely why he never confided in her.

“Yes,” Eric sighed.

“About six months ago?”

Eric stood, eyes narrowed as he processed Juliette’s words. “Yes,” he said slowly. A very, very limited number of people knew about that. Was Juliette spying on him, or?—

“You have a problem,” Juliette said. “Well, the admiral of Hungary does, and I’m guessing that you don’t know about it.”

“What. Problem?” He snarled the words, the blinding white-hot rage he tried—and sometimes failed—to control rising hard and fast.

“Someone’s trying to kill Nikolett, and has been for the past six months.”

Shock, then fear quickly followed by rage, battled to take the reins, the turmoil leaving Eric frozen in place, phone to his ear.

“Dahlia was worried that Vadisk was in love with Nikolett because of the way he talked about her. But actually, he was worried she’d end up dead if he left her, since he was her main bodyguard.”

Nikolett was under attack—and he’d yanked her most capable and deadly security officer away from her, leaving her vulnerable.

Everyone you love dies.

“There have been at least seven assassination attempts,” Juliette finished. “And I decided you needed to know.”

The fucking Grand Master of the Trinity Masters was giving him information he should have gotten from his own people. Nikolett should have told him. Grigoris, Nyx, Vadisk,someoneshould have told him she was in danger.

He let anger take hold. It was easier to deal with than the sickening fear.

The things he’d done to Josephine’s killers would seem gentle compared to what he’d do to whoever hurt Nikolett.

“Thank you, Grand Master.” He ground out the words between his teeth.

“Eric, if you love her, don’t?—”

He hung up, flinging open his door and descending the narrow, dark spiraling stone staircase at a dangerous speed. Three Spartan Guards appeared on the landing of the second floor at the sound of his steps. One look at his face, and suddenly they each had a weapon in their hand.

“Get the plane,” he snarled. “We’re going to Hungary.”

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