Page 72 of Sardonic Burn

I’m staring at him, waiting for an explanation, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Hudson snaps his eyes toward Dylan with a scowl on his face. He’s ready to kill him, and I can’t let that happen.

“Where the fuck is Lyla?”

My mind goes blank, and I’m trying my best to hold back the sudden burst of anger that boils in my veins.

“Oh, the girl outside? She was kindly escorted toward the exit. Rest assured, she’s unharmed.”

“Escorted?” Hudson repeats, hands fisted at his sides.

Dylan raises a brow. “There might’ve been a gun involved.”

That’s all it takes for Hudson to sprint toward Dylan. In an instant, he has him pinned against the wall with a gun pressed into his temple. Dylan doesn’t seem scared or nervous. If anything, he’s been waiting for this to happen.

Something isn’t adding up here.

Dylan isn’t this type of person. Given that his profession isn’t entirely legal, he’s no stranger to guns and gore, but he’s never been directly involved. He saw me getting shot once and passed out at the sight of blood.

That same man is staring at Hudson with a taunting grin? It’s not right. Either Dylan is putting on one hell of an act right now, or I never knew him in the first place. And I don’t know which one is worse.

“You aimed your gun at a De Santis?” Hudson snarls, his shoulders tense. I’m forced to take a step back because I knowjust how dangerous he is right now. I didn’t even think of the possibility of the girl being related to Hudson.

Involuntarily, a sigh of relief slips past my lips.

“That’s a death sentence waiting to happen,” Hudson continues. “I didn’t think a lowlife like yourself had the balls to pull off such a trick.”

Dylan merely grins. “Oh, come on. She’s alive, isn’t she? The same can’t be said for Noelle’s aunt, though.”

That’s when Dylan’s eyes dart to mine, and the man I’ve been engaged to resurfaces. His eyes soften, and he continues to observe me for a moment.

“Noelle.” His voice matches his face. “Can you tell yourpartnerin crime to put down the gun?”

It takes me a moment longer to register his words. I rush toward them, trying to pry Hudson off Dylan. I can barely ignore the fire that ignites in my chest when I touch Hudson’s shoulder. He manages to relax under my fingertips, though his grip on Dylan remains just as firm.

“Hudson,” I warn. “He’ll be a Campbell soon, and, for the time being, you can’t kill him.”

Hudson chuckles. “He’s not one of you yet. And he’ll never get to be one.”

I’m more than capable of reading between the lines, yet I can’t move. My eyes glance outside, where four bodyguards are located. Each has a weapon, though they’re not aiming them at Hudson.

They’re looking for a signal from Dylan. It means Hudson will be severely wounded, and that’s the best-case scenario.

I squeeze myself in between the two men and stare at Hudson. I don’t speak for a moment and let my stance do all the talking. And right now, it speaks volumes. Neither of us is ready to back down, but it seems as though he’s finally understanding the position he’s in.

“Hudson.” My voice resembles a plea. “Lower your gun. I’ll handle this.”

He’s taken aback. He thought I wouldn’t care much about Dylan, and I see hurt flash behind his eyes. Dylan uses the moment of weakness between Hudson and me, grabs my wrist, and yanks me out of the restroom.

I’m so shocked by his actions that I silently follow him like a puppy.

He takes me toward the backdoor, and I’m hit with the cold, harsh wind. My skin crawls at the cold weather, and I start shaking. The further away from the venue we are, the rougher Dylan’s grip on me is and the quicker his movements are.

“Dylan,” I call out. “Slow down.”

He doesn’t hear me, and I don’t think my words even reached him. I catch a glimpse of his car and see him pull out his keys, unlocking the doors.

I snatch my hand back, holding my wrist with my free hand. My movements come to a stop, and Dylan turns around to look at me. I’m not sure what I’m seeing, but it doesn’t feel pleasant.

“Dylan.” I swallow. “Are you okay?”

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