Page 148 of Psycho Alphas: Part One

I needed a fucking drink.

The mansion was slowly falling into disrepair. I refused to hire anyone to maintain it, so it was just Knox and me.

I hated people.

I just wanted to be left alone.

Which was why I drew up in shock as I entered the ballroom, a distantly familiar scent of roses and redwood like a light mist in the air.

Faint, and unmistakable.

I looked around, but it didn’t take me long to find him.

Ace Maverick was seated in one of the armchairs by the fireplace in the corner, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy slouch in his posture as he tapped on his phone.

It might have been the image of casual comfort had he not been a crime lord waiting in a home that wasn’t his.

A crime lord I had rejected just last year.

He didn’t look up as I remained frozen on the spot. I glanced to the upper level of the Ballroom and was unsurprised to spot a shadow or two out of place beside the broad pillars.

Backup, in case he didn’t want to get his hands dirty.

And that was the moment the truth finally sank in.

Today was the day I died.

I sighed.

As I crossed the room toward him, I unrolled my sleeves from where they were bunched, taking my time as I stepped up to the bar.

I buttoned them back up, straightening them neatly before pulling out two glasses and pouring the scotch. Next, I opened the little freezer to my left and used the tongs to pluck a sphere of ice from the bucket—one for each glass.

Finally, I set one down at the table beside Ace and sank into my favourite armchair.

It took a while before Ace finally lowered his phone and looked up at me.

“The lone wolf, in the flesh.”

His eyes lingered on my hands, inspecting them curiously, and I realised there were still a few stains of blood on them.

His eyes flicked back up to me, though. “A lone wolf who’s just a little too entangled in the Nevada trafficking ring.”

“The Brotherhood aren’t?—”

“Weren’t.” He lifted a finger, a flash of delight in his eyes. “Weren’t interested in the ring. Colt Bishop has just made the offer of an alliance.”

I cocked my head, running my tongue along my teeth, the weight of my situation finally sinking in.

I knew Ace Maverick by face because he’d made me an ‘offer of alliance’ before. From Ace, that had meant packing up.

My family name held weight, and he’d wanted a Maverick-Manzo alliance.

But, wanting some peace and fucking quiet, I’d declined.

Politely.

Or as politely as you could decline a man like Ace.

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