Page 60 of Sin & Sapphire

Hammad looked over his shoulder at me with an eyebrow raised. Grateful that the darkness hid how much Valentin’s sadism toward Ana turned me on, I shrugged my shoulders.

“Switch to the other channel, Valentin,” I growled. Everyone would hear me, but the attack team wouldn’t hear my lover and my angel as he made her come to the sound of Grégoire’s suffering. “Vas-y,” I said to him, grinning when Valentin snorted with amusement. Go ahead.

“He’s outside a warehouse where Grégoire is playing poker right now,” Valentin murmured.

Ana gasped, but didn’t say anything.

I gestured to Hammad, who kicked the door in. Shouts followed, and light streamed out as men leapt out of chairs, shoving the table over and sending cards and chips flying.

Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. Grégoire had surrounded himself with low-level scum, the fool, and he’d pay the price for it. To my surprise, the rage that normally filled me during a hit stayed dormant, allowing my focus to remain clear.

Tchérnov knelt behind the refrigerator door, popping off shots the best he could.

One of my men swore when Tchérnov managed to shoot his gun out of his hand.

“Enough,” I roared when the only enemy left alive was the asshole who’d hurt my woman.

“Angelo?” Ana whispered, her voice tentative and shaky in my ear.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I stalked toward Grégoire, who was so fucking stupid, he kept his gun trained on me.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to Ana Costa,” I said.

“Taking what already belonged to me?” he sneered. “You’ll pay for keeping her from me.”

“How many?” Valentin asked through the radio, his voice deceptively casual.

I looked around the room and noted the six bodies on the floor—four men dressed casually and two bodyguards. “Six,” I said. “And one of my men was shot in the hand.”

Ana gasped. “No,” she said. “Why are you—what are you doing?”

Valentin’s silky voice murmured through the speaker, “Justice for you, you stupid slut.”

“Who are you—Who are you talking to?” Grégoire asked, his eyes wide.

Hammad rolled his eyes at me.

“The sweet angel that you violated,” I said. Now the rage overtook me—possessive and furious at the thought that this man had wronged her, taken what was supposed to be safe, her fiancé, and betrayed her.

Grégoire swung around wildly to aim his gun at Hammad, who didn’t even blink.

“Fils de pute,” Hammad said softly, then reached up and snatched the gun out of Grégoire’s hands by the barrel. “And a coward.”

I surged forward, slamming Grégoire against the wall and then down to the ground.

“My father will kill you,” he snarled, struggling against the weight of my body but unable to throw me off.

“Maybe.” I didn’t care. Every day was a gift. One day they’d run out, and if it was sooner rather than later, I’d die knowing I’d taken my revenge on the man who’d raped my angel.

“Angelo.Sir,” Ana murmured, her voice tortured, and immediately, my rage cooled back into an icy clarity.

“Hang him up,” I growled.

In moments, my men had draped a rope over the metal trusses that lined the ceiling, and strung Grégoire up by his wrists. He kicked and screamed, to no avail.

“Sir?” Ana’s voice whispered in my ear. “What’s going on?”

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