Page 68 of Brazen King

I’m here to follow through with my father’s orders—even if my ability to do so no longer exists. Still, I can’t go home without something to show for it.

Whether it’s a success or another failed attempt.

I continue to struggle with the anticipation that creeps in whenever I think about what comes if I don’t succeed.

Ignoring the giddy excitement that races up my spine, I creep quickly across Killian’s soft lawn. Sticking to the shadows where the spotlights won’t catch me, I make it over the expanse during the gap in his men’s rounds. I’m so familiar with the schedule now, waiting for my opportunity takes a fraction of the time it used to.

And keeping low to the ground, I slink toward the back door off the kitchen.

It’s the same door I entered through on the night I chose to break into his bedroom from the hallway rather than the balcony. So I’ve picked the lock once before. But last time, no one was sitting in the kitchen. And the lights were off.

Which means this time, I have to be even more invisible as I work.

Holding my breath, I stay in a crouch as I slip the pins into their slot and slowly shift the tumblers.

It takes mere seconds before the soft click sounds, and I glance up to make sure the blue security light at the top of the door isn’t going off. It shouldn’t. Not when Killian hasn’t gone to bed for the night.

Again, I wonder why he’s still brooding over a drink. It’s well past when he would normally turn in.

Is he thinking of me? Did something happen?

The thought sends an unwanted thrill through my body. And I have to remind myself that it shouldn’t matter when this could be his last night on earth. Rising slowly from my crouch, I silently twist the doorknob.

It opens, smooth and soundless, and I ease inside, my eyes locked on my target.

He shifts, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his ink-covered skin and bringing one of his dead-eyed skulls to life.Then he tosses back the whiskey, as if resolved to taking his medicine, before pouring himself another glass.

Slipping my knife from its holster, I pad across the marble floor. If I don’t see his face, maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to slit his throat before I can change my mind.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I get within reach of him, and still, he doesn’t turn. Scarcely daring to breathe, I make my move. All at once, I comb the fingers of my left hand into his hair. And as I pull his head back, bringing his warm, powerful shoulders against my torso, I place my blade against his throat.

For one heart-stopping moment, I’m positive I’ve done it—caught him completely off guard. And in that fraction of a second, my muscles tense, rebelling against me as his impossibly green eyes meet mine.

Then his strong fingers wrap around my wrist, and I gasp as he removes the blade from his throat. In one fluid motion, he pulls my arm forward, dipping one shoulder until it connects with my stomach. And he pivots, standing as he slings me up and over.

I gasp, twisting into a somersault to avoid hitting the counter on the flat of my back. And it takes all my strength and balance to slip his grasp. Then I land in a deep crouch, one hand on the cold granite, my knife held at the ready, out to my side.

The frown creasing Killian’s strong brow vanishes, his lips curling into a cocky smile as his eyes spark with fiery anticipation. And he takes an intimidating step forward to grab at me.

I jump, launching myself over his head and performing a front flip so I can land behind him. Again, he’s ready for me, turning while I’m in midair so that he’s facing me when my feet touch the ground.

“God, you’re sexy,” he growls, his gaze ravenous as he settles into a defensive position.

My core tightens, urging me to forget the attempt on his life and instead throw myself into his arms.

But that’s not how our deal works.

And I can’t let my baser instincts get the better of me.

So, instead, I take a running start toward him, and when he grabs for me, I feign to the left.

He dodges, his abs flexing and his ribcage arcing away from my knife. But at the same time, he spins. And his arm snakes around my waist with impressive speed.

I grunt as my back hits his chest, and suddenly, I’m in his embrace. His enticing scent of whiskey, leather, and eucalyptus fills my nose, and my heart skips a beat as my adrenaline shifts to something more primal.

Before I have time to maneuver my blade, his free hand is wrapped around my wrist again. And he brings my arm against my chest with impressive force. I gasp, my stomach clenching as the tip of my knife presses gently against my collarbone.

For the first time, he didn’t just best me. He’s holding me at knifepoint.

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