Page 6 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“What do you mean?” I asked dumbly, gesturing toward Cian’s tent.

“Woke up an hour ago to Frankie poundin’ on my door,” he said, pointing back at the building. “Sayin’ that she went back to your tent and couldn’t find ya. That you’d left hours before sayin’ you were goin’ to bed, but there was no sign of ya—”

“I couldn’t find—”

“So, we start callin’ your phone,” he continued, not letting me speak. My hand went instinctively to my back pocket, where I usually kept my phone, but it wasn’t there. Dad held it up. “Found it outside next to the clubhouse along with what I’m guessin’isn’tyour blood.” He looked me over carefully.

I felt my shoulders slump. Shit.

“I must’ve dropped it,” I whispered.

“You dropped it,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, I dropped it.”

“And the blood?”

“Well,” I hedged. I’d already dealt with Cian turning into a raging asshole. It was too early in the morning to deal with my dad and brothers becoming lunatics, too.

“Some motherfucker—” Cian began to say.

“Talkin’ to my daughter.” My dad cut him off. “You’ll get your turn.”

“Some idiot followed me outside,” I said quickly. “I don’t thinknowas a word he recognized.” The tension around me ratcheted up considerably, and I swallowed hard. “So, I made it very clear that I wasn’t interested.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name,” I replied honestly. I really couldn’t even remember his face.

“And you bloodied him up?” my dad asked doubtfully.

“Well, no,” I said slowly.

“Myla.”

“I practically twisted his balls off his body,” I muttered, my cheeks heating.

My brother Rumi let out a quick bark of laughter that immediately cut off.

“The blood, Myla.” My dad was losing what little patience he’d had to begin with.

“That was Cian.”

Then, I guess it was Cian’s turn to speak. “The blond fucker from Arizona,” he said when Dad turned to him. “Fucked him up and sent him on his way.”

“How fucked up?” my dad asked.

“You find any of his teeth?” Cian asked, jerking his head toward the side of the building. “Guessin’ he’s missin’ a few.”

“And you didn’t think you should let someone know?” My dad sounded frighteningly calm.

“Took care of it,” Cian replied steadily. “Didn’t think I needed to announce it.”

“And then what?” Dad asked, still using that calm tone that was freaking me the hell out. “Brought Myla back to your tent for a little after-action?”

“Dad,” I snapped, glaring at him.

“No,” Cian said. He was holding his body so still, he barely looked like he was breathing.

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