Page 209 of The Owner's Temptation

I came for her.

But as much as I want to put a bullet through every bastard here—including the two standing front and center like they’re hosting a reunion—I can’t ignore the terrified little boy being dragged by his hair into the center of this chaos.

I was no older than he was when I watched a man put a bullet between my father’s eyes. No kid should have to see that.

His wide, tear-streaked face locks on mine for a single beat, and something primal rises in my chest. He’s innocent in all this. And now he’s part of it—used like a pawn in a game he doesn't understand.

I give Killian a single nod from where he’s perched on the rooftop. It’s all he needs.

The sniper rifle cracks through the air with surgical precision, and a split-second later, Shawn O’Mally stumbles, blood blooming from his shoulder. Chaos erupts as the tension detonates—men drawing weapons, shouting, diving for cover.

But I’m already moving.

My gun is up and steady, sights locked. A clean shot drops the man holding the kid—center of his fucking head. He drops like a sack of bricks, and I’m sprinting forward before his body even hits the gravel.

The boy flinches as I scoop him up under my arm and bolt for the warehouse.

Gunfire rips through the air like thunder cracking open the sky. Chaos erupts around me—shouts, bullets, the acrid scent of smoke curling into my lungs.

But I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I move through the fray like a man possessed, the boy tucked under my arm, his terrified weight reminding me why I can't fucking fail.

The warehouse looms ahead, the same one from the video. If she's not inside... no. I won't finish that thought. She’s here. She has to be.

My boots skid on the dirt-slick floor as I shove open the rusted door, gun drawn and sweeping the room. And there—Jesus—there she is.

Sienna.

She’s bound to the chair, gagged, her eyes wide and wild with panic, skin bruised, blood dried beneath her temple. Her entire body stiffens when she looks just past me, and for a breath, neither of us moves.

I realize just in time what’s about to happen and I can’t fucking let it.

I spin putting the boy behind me and blocking Sienna with my body. My arm raises as just a shot cracks through the air.

A bolt of searing pain explodes through my shoulder, the force jolting me and sending the boy tumbling from my grip.

But my bullet races through the air and hits the gunman between the eyes. He hits the ground just after the boy does who scrambles upright like a frightened animal. He bolts toward the exit before I can grab him.

Right into the fucking gunfight.

“Fuck!”

Gun still in hand, I put pressure on the wound. Warm blood coats my palm, but I don’t stop moving. I rush toward her, adrenaline overriding everything else. I crouch beside her, untucking the switchblade from my boot and slice it through the rope binding one hand. I slip it into her now-freed hand as I push the gag from her mouth.

My lips are on hers in a chaste kiss, needing to feel her to know she’s really here.

“Cut yourself loose, Angel. I have to get him.”

She nods, lips trembling, and starts sawing through the rope as I turn and push back into the chaos.

Outside, the firefight is peaking. My men have closed in—silent, lethal, efficient. The O’Malleys are going down one by one, caught in the crossfire they didn’t prepare for.

Killian’s on the roof, sniping with surgical precision.

The boy’s darting through the crossfire, a blur of panicked motion too small to stay safe.

His father is screaming at him across the yard to stop and hide but I don’t think he can hear it.

I duck low and sprint, weaving between crates and scattered bodies until I spot him—cornered, trembling, and inches from one of O’Malley’s men readying to grab him.

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