Page 9 of Hate Mates

Kingston’s grip tightens on the gun, his eyes never leaving mine, as if daring the world to test him. The danger might be contained for now, but the threat lingers—an unspoken warning that whoever took that shotis still out there.

He marches through the wall of men guarding me, shouldering the security team like they’re nothing more than chess pieces in his way. His shadowed features are stern, but his energy crackles with authority.

Before I can react, his fingers wrap around my wrist—firm, inflexible.

“You’remy wife,” he says, his voice like gravel, deep and edged with a dangerous promise. “That means you’re under my protection from now on. And whoever the fuck thought they could take a shot at you—atus—is already dead. They just don’t know it yet.”

My pulse spikes at the sheer force of him, the way he looks right now—raw power in an expensive tux, broad shoulders tense, his dark hair a little mussed from the chaos. He’s lethal in his own right, and to my annoyance, devastatingly sexy.

But I refuse to be something heowns.

I yank my hand back, my jaw tightening.

“As you can see, I have my own security, Kingston.” I emphasize his name like it’s venom. “I don’t need you taking over.”

His jaw ticks, but his eyes gleam, arrogance playing on his lips like he enjoys the fight. “Too late. I’ve already said my vows and taken over.”

“If we go home together, we’re a bigger target,” I snap, planting my hands on my hips. “Whoever did this knows exactly where you live. Splitting up makes it harder for them.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Kingston crosses his arms, looming over me. “You think separating makes yousafer? You think your team can protect you better than I can?”

“They’ve been doing it my entire life.”

“Well, congratulations,wife,” he drawls, voice thick with mockery. “That job’s mine now.”

Before I can spit back another retort, the terrace doors slam open.

A wave of silence ripples through the crowd as my father steps onto the terrace.

Cormac O’Callaghan.

Though he’s not as tall as most men, he’s broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp black suit and radiates the same untouchable supremacy Kingston does—except he’s colder, less patient with fools. Deep lines on his face tell stories of battles won and the enemies he had buried in cement.

His silver-threaded hair is neatly combed, but his pale green eyes burn with barely restrained fury as he approaches.

“You’re going home with Viacava, Livvie. No arguments,” he says, running an eye over my dress, checking for signs of injury. “There’s more at stake here than your independence. Empires will crumble if you screw it up.”

My hands curl into fists. “I don’t need him to?—”

He silences me with a glare. The kind that’s made grown men weep in the past.

“You’rehiswife now. And that means you gowith him.” His tone is absolute. Final.

I grind my teeth, hating the way I have to obey these men—like a shiny object being passed from one to the other. Despite that, I know better than to argue with my father when he uses that tone.

He turns to Kingston, their eyes locking like wolves sizing each other up. “She’s your responsibility now, Viacava. I expect you to protect her as I would. Increase your staff and if you come up with any leads, let me know. I have my best man on it. If he can’t find the fucker, no one can.”

My stomach knots. He’s talking about Roman Keane.

Kingston nods once, unaware of my past.

“She’ll be with me twenty-four-seven. You have my word. I’ll protect her.”

My father’s gaze cuts to me. “Focus on the honeymoon, Livvie, and post plenty of pictures for everyone to see the happy, believable couple.”

He lights up a cigar, satisfied with his input, and saunters back inside, leaving me standing there, fuming.

Kingston shifts closer, just enough to taunt me with his cologne and muscular build. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. Then he smirks—cocky, provoking.

“See—I always get what I want,wife.”

I scowl at him. “Then you should have married a woman who listens.”

He laughs, low and rich, and my belly swoops. “I like the one I got just fine.”

“Shame the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Eventually, you’ll realize there’s no point fighting against this. Remember your vows? ‘Til death do us part and all that bullshit. I’ll eliminate whoever took out a hit on us and that will ensure neither of us dies too soon. So grab your bags, wife. You’re all mine now.”

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