Page 55 of His Angel

The glass clinks softly as I set it down, my hand drifting to the knife on the table—steel gleaming, edge honed to a whisper. I twirl it between my fingers, the familiar weight steadying me as my mind churns. I could end it, fly to New York, hunt him down, slit his throat in some dark corner, watch his blood pool black under the streetlights.

One cut, one thrust, and he’s gone—no limp, no threat.

But every move I make risks her. Risks exposing my lie. And there’s no way this plays out with her not being at my side every second of every goddamn day.

I pick up my phone and type a text to Davian.

Meet me in my office in ten. Keep Poppy’s scope on the bedroom window.

I love it when baby Del Rossa gets all bossy.

Quit fucking around.

Too many rabbits to hunt. See you in ten.

A floorboard groans under my feet as I rise, the sound sharp in the stillness, and I cast one last look at her—peaceful, mine—before slipping out.

The hall’s cool, thick shadows pooling along the walls, and my steps echo softly as I head to the office, knife still twirling in my grip. The bourbon’s heat lingers in my throat, but my mind’s racing, and each direction leads to an outcome where I lose her. And I can’t. I won’t.

Ten minutes later, Davian’s punctual ass saunters into my office.

“Just FYI, I was getting my dick sucked by a gorgeous, sassy rabbit who had my gun pressed against her temple.”

“That’s disturbing.”

He sits across from me, a devil grin on his face. “Nothing motivates a good ol’ cock sucking like staring death in the face.”

“At times when I feel like a twisted human being, I think of you and realize I’m a fucking angel.”

Davian laughs, amusement sparkling in his eyes like shattered glass. “Really touched you think of me when you’re feeling down.”

I pour some bourbon and slide the glass to him. “I need a favor.”

“Have you not gotten your cock sucked enough?”

I lift a brow.

“Everly’s been on your dick more than a slut on a pole after rent day.”

“Shut the fuck up, Davian. I’m serious.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Have you been watching us?”

“I’m a psychopath with a gun and a scope. Of course, I’ve been watching you.” He picks at imaginary lint on his shirt. “Plus, you two going at each other like whores on crack is the only entertainment Rabbit and I have around here.” He shrugs. “Well, that and you almost slitting Wyatt’s throat the other day. I’m surprised you still have that fucker around.”

“Talon’s got him leaving with the next supply drop. We don’t need more aircraft coming and going.”

“Or…I can just take him out. We got a huge motherfucking ocean to drop him in.”

I rough a hand through my hair. “This isn’t about Wyatt. Or cock sucking.”

Davian leans back in his seat, those green eyes staring at me speculatively. “If I were to take a stab at it, I’d say you’re about ready to go against big brother’s orders by taking Paladino out.” His lips curve upward. “Del Rossa style, six feet under with a side of concrete boots.”

I’m tapping my finger on the desk, a rhythm that matches the energy pulsing through my bones. “I can’t lose her, Davian.”

“Hey, you get no judgement from me.” He picks up the glass of bourbon. “If some fuck tried to take Rabbit from me, I’d gut him—slice him slow from navel to throat, peel his skin back like a bloody curtain, and watch his insides spill out while he chokes on his own screams. I’d twist the knife just to hear the crack of his ribs, then carve her name into his chest so he knows, even in hell, who he lost her to.”

I’m well-aware that there’s a special kind of twisted inside me, but what Davian just said, there’s a satisfying ring to it that sparks deep and dark in my soul. “I need him dead, Davian.”

“I got a bullet with his name on it.”

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