Page 35 of The Devil's Dream

As the silence lingered a beat too long, Nova's face fell, and uncertainty started to creep across her beautiful face.

No.

That wouldn't do.

I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks. “Love you too, baby.” I meant every word.

Kane pressed against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist. “Same here, Kitten. More than you know.”

Nova's smile could have lit up the whole damn city. She turned her head, pressing a kiss to my palm before leaning back against Kane's chest.

The sight of her between us, trusting us completely, was everything we’d always wanted.

“Home,” I added with a smirk of my own, ready to get Nova back to the brownstone so we could continue celebrating.

Nova went to smooth down her dress when Kane pushed her hands away. “I’ll get that,” he rumbled, taking hold of the material scrunched up around her waist and pushing it down to cover her.

My hands landed on her hips as she smoothed her hair. Even with her clothes wrinkled and looking freshly fucked, she was flawless. Like a fallen angel who was the answer to the Devil's dream.

“Let's get out of here,” Kane said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

I nodded, reaching for the door. But as I pulled it open and stepped out into the hallway, movement in my peripheral visioncaught my attention. I glanced over, catching sight of a man as he rounded the corner towards the back exit.

Flashes of the night I’d been jumped behind the flower shop strobed through my mind.

Everything. I remembered everything, and my blood felt like it was starting to boil.

He was the fucking Fed we’d been looking for.

Everything else faded away—Nova's soft smile, Kane's victory high, all of it disappeared as rage flooded my system.

Without a word, I took off after him, shouldering through the crowd.

I was closing the distance when he looked back over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing when they locked onto mine.

That’s right, motherfucker.

He picked up the pace, bolting through the door with the flashing EXIT sign above it.

Big fucking mistake.

As I burst through the door into the alley, there he was, trying to disappear into the shadows like the rat he was.

Not this time, motherfucker.

Closing the gap between us, I grabbed onto the back of his jacket and slammed him face-first into the concrete wall. The impact made a satisfying crunch as his nose connected with the unforgiving surface.

“Remember me?” I growled, twisting his arm behind his back until he grunted in pain.

The alley door burst open behind me as the club poured out, drawn by the commotion.

I could hear Nova's sharp intake of breath, but I couldn't look at her. Couldn't see the fear that I knew would be reflected in her eyes.

“Get the van,” Banner ordered. His voice appeared calm, but we all knew that tone. The Butcher would soon be coming out to play.

“Grab his wallet,” Ghost instructed, probably more ready than any of us to finally know who the asshole that’d been fucking with us for far too long was.

Link slid in beside us and fished out the leather bifold from his pocket. Flipping it open, he pulled out a license. “It says here, his name is Tony Jones.”

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