Page 210 of The Owner's Temptation

That fucking asshole. I hate a goddamn coward.

I surge forward, my shoulder screaming in protest, and tackle the bastard to the ground.

“Get back inside the fucking warehouse boy.”

Thank fuck he listens—and I let this asshole go, planting my knee on the man's chest and driving my fist into his jaw. Two bullets later and he stops moving.

It’s nearly over now. The dust is settling. Gunfire dies down, replaced by groans and silence. The air hangs thick with smoke and vengeance.

I rise slowly, my shoulder throbbing but my grip steady as I step through the haze.

O’Malley has a gun pointed at Lorenzo’s head. My old friend, now enemy, has nothing but an empty gun. He raises his hands in surrender but I’m fucking over this.

I want to get my girl out of here. But first, Lorenzo owes me my pound of flesh.

Blood coats the gravel around us. All their men are gone. My gun lifts on instinct, aimed straight at O’Malleys head and he meets the same end as the rest of his men.

Lorenzo gets my gun next, knowing we’re not fucking done yet.

Behind me, I hear Sienna’s ragged breaths as she shields the boy with her arms, pulling him back against the warehouse wall. Her eyes are locked on me, and I can feel her fear—and her fury—radiating like heat.

“Don’t let him see.” I tell her, my voice deadly low.

Lorenzo stares at me, chest heaving, the glint of something manic in his eyes.

“You wanted a war,” I say, my voice low, dangerous. “This is how it ends.”

My legs barely work.

I’m leaning against the cold metal of the warehouse, one arm wrapped tight around the boy’s small, trembling body, the other gripping the wall behind me like it might hold me upright through sheer will.

My wrists are raw.

Torn skin, dried blood. Ankles the same. My whole body feels bruised and battered, like I’ve been through a war.

Because I have.

My heart punches hard against my ribs as Lucian stands over Lorenzo, gun steady, eyes unreadable. The devil in human form. A man I love—I fucking love—even like this.

Maybe especially like this.

Because he didn’t just come for me. He brought a goddamn army ready to level this place, just to get me out. He created a river of my captor’s blood just to cross it and free me.

“On your fucking knees, Lorenzo.”

Lucian’s voice cracks like lightning through the smoke-filled air. The man drops. Just collapses. A far cry from the wild-eyed monster who slammed me against a hangar wall and screamed about bloodlines and betrayal. Now he’s just a broken man, begging.

He pleads for his life. For his son. For mercy.

Lucian gives none.

“You know what’s owed to me,” he says coldly. “And you damn sure know I’m here to collect it. Because I’m the Devil you helped create.”

I don’t move. I barely breathe.

The boy in my arms starts to tremble harder. I shift, pulling him closer, shielding his face with my hand. Covering his ear. He shouldn’t have to see this. Hear this. No child should.

But I do. I watch everything. I wouldn’t be able to look away from it if I tried.

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