Page 13 of Galen

Devlin, on the other hand, was a different story. Devlin knew everything that went on in his house. Dang it, if Devlin went to the basement and shot Mario, then Galen would have nothing to bargain with. He better get downstairs.

Galen tucked his phone away, turning his attention back to Bianca.

“I’ll see you tonight, Bianca,” he said.

He leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but tentative. This time, the kiss was searing, a collision of want and need that left no room for doubt.

Galen’s hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer as his lips claimed hers with a fierce intensity. He tasted her, devoured her, and felt her melt against him, her resistance crumbling away. The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweetness and fire that left him craving more.

Bianca’s hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor herself. She kissed him back with equal fervor, matching his passion with her own.

It was as if all the fear, anger, and confusion had been channeled into this one moment, this one kiss that seemed to consume them both.

When Galen finally pulled back, both were breathless, their hearts pounding in sync. He stared down at her, his thumb brushing against her swollen lips, and saw the mixture of emotions in her eyes—desire, fear, uncertainty, and something else, something that intrigued him even more.

“Sit tight,” he whispered, his voice husky.“I won’t take long.”

With one last lingering look, Galen turned and left the apartment, his mind already racing with the plans he needed to set in motion.

Bianca might not realize it yet, but she was already his. And tonight, he would make sure she understood just how serious he was about making her his wife.

****

Galen’s phone buzzed again with Carver’s urgent message:Hurry downstairs. Devlin’s on his way.Galen swore under his breath, frustration tightening his chest.

The last thing he needed was Devlin sticking his nose into his business, especially now. He glanced at Benny, who stood vigilant outside the apartment door, his loyal eyes trained on Galen.

“Stay here. Make sure she doesn’t leave,” Galen instructed.

Benny nodded, his presence as solid and reassuring as ever. Galen knew he could trust him, but that didn’t ease the tension coiling in his gut. He cursed his brother again. Why did Devlin always have to butt in, always have to prove to everyone that he was the alpha? It wasn’t like either Carver or he had any interest in usurping Devlin’s position as head of the family. Both were content where they were, playing their roles without challenging the established order. But Devlin never seemed to believe that.

Galen strode into the elevator, jabbing the button for the basement. The elevator seemed to crawl at an agonizingly slow pace. If Devlin had taken matters into his own hands and killed Mario… Galen clenched his fists, the thought sending a jolt of anger through him. He would never forgive Devlin for that.

Just minutes ago, while talking to Bianca, Galen had been lost in thoughts of a different sort. He had already begun planning their evening together—calling in his private chef to prepare a special dinner, ordering her a dress that would drive him wild.

He envisioned a strapless little black number that would cling to her curves in all the right places, emphasizing her slim waist and the gentle swell of her hips. Beneath it, he imagined her in delicate black lace, the kind of lingerie that was as much for his pleasure as hers.

He could already picture himself tearing them off her then taking his time enjoying every sweet inch of her and eventually making her scream his name. The image had made his blood heat, his pulse quicken.

But now, as the elevator let out a sharp ping, reality crashed back down around him. He stepped out, the cold air of the basement biting at his skin, and moved swiftly toward Mario’s cell.

His senses were on high alert, his heart pounded with a mix of urgency and dread. The cell door was open—a bad sign. A very bad sign.

As he approached, voices reached his ears. Mario’sdesperate pleas for his life echoed off the stone walls, mingling with Carver’s attempts to reason with Devlin. The words sent a chill down Galen’s spine, tightening the knot of anxiety in his gut.

“…no idea why Galen couldn’t finish the job. I guess I have to do it myself,” Devlin’s voice rang out, cold and decisive.

Shit. That didn’t sound good at all. Galen surged forward, pushing his way into the cell. His heart sank at the sight that greeted him: Devlin had Mario cornered against the wall, a gun pressed to the side of his head. Mario’s face was a mask of terror, his eyes wide and pleading, sweat dripping down his temple.

“Galen, wonderful of you to join us,” Devlin greeted through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes, sharp and furious, flicked to Galen as if daring him to interfere.“After I get rid of this scum, you’ll have some explaining to do.”

Carver, standing off to the side, shot Galen an apologetic look.“I tried to reason with him, Galen,” Carver said, his voice low and strained.

“I know,” Galen replied, his tone calm but edged with tension. His mind raced as he considered his next move.

Devlin’s grip on the situation was precarious at best, his temper burning with a cold fury Galen knew all too well. If Devlin pulled the trigger, it would be all over—Mario, Bianca, his carefully laid plans. Everything would be lost.

Galen took a deep breath, steadying himself before turning his full attention to his older brother.

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