Page 22 of His Angel

“Eyes on her,” I growl, glancing at Everly again, her dress fluttering as she tosses a stick for Luna. “They think they can snatch my girl, gut me without firing a shot. How close are they?”

He shrugs, flicking ash into the wind. “Not close enough to have me worried. Closest ping is fifty miles out, but it’s fishing trawlers with too much tech. We’ve got the jammers hot, and the radar scrubbed. This rock’s a ghost to them—for now.”

“The Paladinos are patient bastards, and cash talks.” I rub my knuckles, the old itch for blood flaring. “We hold this ground, Talon. No cracks, understand?”

“Of course.”

“She stays safe, or I’m skinning every last one of you.”

His lips twitch, a rare crack in the stone facade. “Don’t worry, boss. We’ve got tripwires on the cliffs, and I’ve got two snipers itching to pop heads if anything moves wrong.”

“Davian and Poppy?”

“Yup. And the cameras we have in the jungle show us daily what a good fucking time those two are having. Jesus. They’re like two little fuck toys going at each other all the damn time. I’m surprised they’re still alive.”

I snort. “Sounds like them.”

“I need to head back out,” he says. “Need to check the perimeter. But don’t worry, boss. We’ve got every corner of this island covered.”

“Good. And those trawlers, if they get within twenty miles, take them out. No warnings, no survivors.”

Talon nods, stubbing the cigarette on the railing, ember sizzling out. “Done. Anything else?”

I hesitate, thoughts flicking to that locked door. “Make sure theofficeis secure every time you leave. She’ll start sniffing eventually, and I can’t have her in there.”

“Crystal,” he says, voice flat.

I clap his shoulder, hard, and turn back to the beach. “Get it done, Talon. I’m not losing her—not to them, not to anything.”

He grunts, peeling off toward the house, then stops. “Oh, almost forgot. Your brother sent a message.”

“Which one?”

“Alexius.”

“Fuck me.” I roll my neck back, tension snapping tight. “What does he want?”

Talon’s lips twitch. “Romulus is descending.”

I freeze, bourbon halfway to my mouth, the name slamming me like a fist. Romulus—Alexius, the Dark Sovereign’s fucking king, my big brother casting a shadow that blacks out the sun. “When?”

“Tomorrow’s supply run,” Talon says, flicking his Zippo shut. “Two birds, one stone. No one’ll suspect shit.” He turns, boots thudding back into the house.

“Jesus,” I mutter, downing the bourbon in one burn. Our old man loved his myths. Romulus and Remus, Rome’s bloody founders. Named our Chicago estate Capitilone after the she-wolf who raised them. Fitting for Alexius and Nicoli—the twins, tearing through our world like gods with claws.

“Fuck.” The last thing I need is Alexius storming in, sticking his nose up my ass. I’ve been dodging his calls, routing through Nicoli. His twin’s got a soft spot for my mess since Mirabella got taken from him and hurt in ways no woman ever should be. Alexius hates this play, but Nicoli gets it, and if anyone can leash the boss besides Leandra, it’s him.

Oh, well. Fuck it.

Let him come.

Let him breathe fire up my asshole. I don’t give a shit. As long as I have my woman safe and protected, I’ll take on the devil himself.

Chapter7

EVERLY

The sunset bleeds into the ocean, a cascade of crimson that kisses the horizon as I toss a stick along the shoreline.

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