Page 4 of Siren's Salvation

"Hey, asshole," I call out as I approach. "We need to talk."

Bronco turns, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's the matter, Shiver? Little sister tell you some stories?"

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off his face right then and there. "Cut the bullshit.”

"What the hell is going on here?" I demand, my voice echoing in the cavernous room.

A smirk plays on his lips. "I was just getting acquainted with my future wife. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" He hollers over toward my sister.

Grace doesn't respond.

Her eyes are wide with fear, darting between Bronco and me.

"She's eighteen, for fuck's sake," I growl, taking a step closer. "And you're what, pushing forty?"

Bronco shrugs, completely unbothered. "Age is just a number, brother. Besides, not sure if your little sis told you this. Your old man signed off on this. It's all nice and legal."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to knock his teeth in. "Legal doesn't make it right."

"Four million dollars says otherwise," Bronco counters, his grin widening. "That check my family wrote to Sharp Shooters Ranch? That makes little Grace here my property."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I knew we were looking for avenues to add more money to the ranch, but I never thought he’d resort to this.

Now, my father’s using this marriage to secure the future of our ranch, one of the largest in Texas.

But hearing Bronco talk about my sister like she's cattle to be bought and sold... it makes my blood boil.

"Grace," I say, keeping my eyes locked on Bronco, "go to your room. Now."

She doesn't need to be told twice.

I hear her footsteps retreating, quick and light, as she flees the scene.

Once she's gone, I close the distance between Bronco and me. "Listen here, you piece of shit," I hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I don't care how much money your family threw at this place. Grace isnotyour property. She's a person, and she deserves to be treated with respect."

Bronco's eyes narrow, all traces of amusement gone. "Watch yourself, Shiver. I'm your VP now. You'd do well to remember that."

I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "VP? That's cute. You think that little patch on your cut means anything to me? I've been in this life since I could walk. When the old man steps down, we both know who's taking over and it won’t be you."

For a moment, I see a flicker of uncertainty in Bronco's eyes.

But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.

"We'll see about that," he says, his voice low and menacing. "In the meantime, I suggest you stay out of my business with Grace. What happens between a man and his wife is no one else's concern."

I feel something inside me snap.

Before I can think better of it, I've got Bronco by the throat, slamming him against the wall. "She's not your wife yet," I snarl. "And if I have anything to say about it, she never will be."

The impact of Bronco's body against the wall echoes through the clubhouse, but I barely register it.

My vision's tunneled, focused solely on the smug bastard in front of me.

I can feel his pulse racing under my fingers, but there's no fear in his eyes.

Just that same goddamn arrogance.

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