Page 47 of God of War

Anger slices through me, sharpening to rage. "How the fuck are we going to lose another one, Nicolas?"

"Our ship was quarantined as soon as it docked in Aruba, Naz."

"Motherfucker," I swear, slamming my head back against the seat. This is the last thing I need right now.

"They're going to want to hear from you directly,príncipe," Nicolas says. "They won't negotiate with anyone but you."

I flick my gaze in Brynna's direction, guilt sliding through me. She needs a day away from this shit. But if we don't get this sorted out before they board the motherfucking ship, they'll rip it apart and take everything. And docking another ship in Aruba will cost two or three times what it does now to keep them looking the other way. We need that port.

"I'll be there," I sigh, a wave of defeat coursing through me. This empire is a yoke around my neck…but it's still my responsibility.

Cristo. Burning it to the ground looks better and better every day.

I disconnect, dropping the phone into the console.

Brynna meets my gaze, hers worried. "What's wrong?"

"Issue with a ship," I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face. "I have to deal with it, mi alma."

"Okay," she says softly. A moment later, her hand slips into mine, her fingers lacing through mine. "It'll be okay, Naz."

I glance over at her, startled. "I'm supposed to be the one telling you that, Brynna."

"Yeah, well, I think maybe you need to hear it sometimes too. You're carrying the whole world on your shoulder. Now, you have help. You have me." She smiles at me, so sweet I want to crawl into her fucking skin and pour myself into her veins.Cristo. The way she looks at me, the way she makes me feel… It's terrifying and exhilarating, setting me on fire.

I lean over the console, devouring her lips. I lick into her mouth, claiming every corner of it. And then I pull back, reaching for the door handle. "Stay right here,mi alma. I'll be right back."

Her brows furrow with confusion. "Where are you going?"

"To do a little charity and get you that good karma,mi luz." I wink and then slam the door, striding toward the entrance to the soup kitchen. The fact that she thinks she needs to pour more good into the world to balance the scales for herself is fucking heartbreaking. So is the fact that Sullivan is too goddamn blind to see the damage he did to her.

He put her on a pedestal and turned her into a target, and then killed anyone who took a shot at her. And she's the one who suffered for it. He should have handled it a long time ago.

The moment the first enemy made a move against her, he should have gone scorched earth, burned their fucking worlds to the ground. No one else would have dared try. She wouldn't feel so guilty now if he had. But he let it continue, instead picking them off one by one like it was a game.

I won't make the same mistake. I won't lock her away. She won't be a target. And she'll never know just how brutal and monstrous I'll be to ensure it. Those sins will be mine, carried in secret so they never touch her.

"I need to see whoever the fuck is in charge around here," I mutter to the man standing at the door, letting people in one by one. "I'm about to make his day."

He flicks his gaze up at me, a smile already forming on his lips, and then he realizes who I am. It freezes, half-formed. "Uh…"

"Just go get whoever the fuck I need to write the goddamn check out to," I sigh, not in the mood for this bullshit. "Now."

Shock flares in his eyes. But he's smart enough not to ask a single damn question. He darts inside, running to do as he was told.

"I'm sorry," Nicolas says, scrubbing a hand down his face as we stride back toward my office a full four hours later. "I should have been paying better attention."

He's right. He should have. So why the fuck wasn't he?

I just had to work a miracle, threaten to build my own fucking port in Bonaire, because he failed to notice that the payment to our contact in Aruba hadn't been sent. Greased palms pave the way. Dry palms are a motherfucking problem.

I cut my eyes in his direction. "So why weren't you, Nicolas? What was so goddamn important that you forgot what the fuck I pay you to do?" I growl, trying to figure him out, to pin him down.

Suspicion is a cold, hard knot in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to believe it. He's been ruthless over the last few days, cutting through the ranks without mercy, killing without remorse when necessary. And yet…the knot remains.

Where the fuck do his loyalties truly lie?

"You,príncipe," he says, dropping his hand from his face to meet my gaze. "You are the reason I forgot."

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