Page 22 of The Devil's Torment

“Call me,” Imogen shouts back as Max steers her toward the exit, with Andrew striding after them. “Look after her, Nicholas.”

We follow Imogen and the two bodyguards outside. They slide into the car we arrived in while we climb into one parked behind. Barron, Nicholas’s personal bodyguard, shuts the door and situates himself into the front passenger seat.

“Ashcroft,” Nicholas snaps.

I wince, rubbing my temples. “Stop shouting. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Better than the fucking heart attack you gave me.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared.”

I wait for him to deny that he does, bracing myself for that sharp stab of rejection. Except he says nothing. The only sign he heard me at all is his fisted hands pressed into the leather seat.

ChapterNine

NICHOLAS

Ashcroft’s manager on duty brings me a steaming cup of coffee while I wait for Victoria to return from X-ray. The doctor who examined her within three minutes of our arrival, didn’t think her cheek was fractured, but he’d need the X-ray to confirm.

Xan had blown up my phone, first with demands to know where the fuck I was, considering I’d darted from the casino without telling him a thing, and then with messages asking after Victoria. Imogen must’ve called him from the car and told him what had happened. The timing looks about right. I text him back with what I know so far, if only to stop him bombarding me with even more messages demanding answers.

The only answer I’m interested in is who thefuckdared to punch my fiancée.

Whoever it was, he’d better enjoy his last few hours thinking he’s some fucking big man. I’ve already sent a message to the manager asking him to pull every security feed and scour it for the incident. As soon as I’ve dropped Victoria home to her parents, I intend to return to Noir, see the footage for myself, find out who this fucker is, and deal with him.

Stupid bastard doesn’t realize a storm is coming. One he’ll be lucky to survive.

First Elizabeth, now Victoria. The two incidents aren’t remotely connected, nor are they of the same severity, but that doesn’t mean I won’t act. The guy who punched my fiancée probably hasn’t a clue who she is, nor who she belongs to, but that doesn’t matter to me either.

He put his hands on her without her permission.

He thought he was owed her time and attention.

He dared to hit her.

Let him try to punch someone more his size and see how far he gets. I have many faults, as do my family. We’re far from perfect, but one thing we all have in common is respecting a woman’s boundaries. It’s probably because of what happened to Annabel. Trauma in childhood tends to form strong beliefs. It’s why we do what we do, why we punish those who hurt and maim and kill women and kids. Xan started his quest for revenge a few years after those animals raped and murdered our sister, and me, Christian, and Tobias support him whenever he needs us.

We keep Saskia out of it. The urge to protect, or probably overprotect, her runs through our veins.

I drain the coffee, then pace while I wait for news. Ten minutes later, Victoria enters the family room, followed by the doctor. She opens her mouth, but the doctor beats her to it.

“No fracture, just bruising. It’ll be tender for a few days, but I’ve given her some painkillers which she can take if the discomfort becomes too much.”

“I can speak for myself,” Victoria grumbles.

“Concussion?” I inquire, ignoring the combative note to her voice. Even after a punch to the face, she can’t help arguing.

“No, although I’d advise keeping an eye on her for a few days. If she shows any signs of nausea, blurred vision, or headaches, bring her back and I’ll run a few tests.”

“Thanks.” I grip her elbow and guide her outside to the car.

Barron climbs out to greet me. “Everything okay?”

I nod curtly, my palm on Victoria’s lower back as she gets into the car. I follow, and Barron shuts the door before joining Sol up front.

“Victoria’s home, please, Sol.”

“Sure thing, Mr. DV.”

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