Page 117 of Onyx Realm

Frowning, I tried to understand his meaning. How did I, wounded and in bed, damn her?

“Get some rest. We have everything under control.” Atlas rose, moving toward the door.

“Wait.”

He paused but didn’t look back.

“She didn’t orchestrate the attack,” I insisted. “She’s not our enemy—but she will be. If you hurt her, I swear to all that is holy, I will burn this city to the ground and bury the bodies who touched her.”

“Markos.” Atlas clenched his fist and rounded on me. “You’re done.”

“The hell I am!” I struggled to sit, the pain in my lower abdomen screaming in protest.

“We’ll make a motion and relieve you of your duties until you can see reason.”

His threat hung between us, dark and foreboding.

“The only way I’ll quit my role as a member of this organization is if you put a bullet in my head. Are you saying you’re going to execute me, Atlas?” I demanded.

Stalking forward, Atlas pushed on my shoulder. “Look at yourself! You’re bleeding, and yet you still defend her! Clearly, you’ve lost your mind.”

“I have,” I rasped. “She’s mine. I defy heaven and hell to take her, and someone mortal like you? You can’t stop me.”

“She fuckingshotyou!”

I blinked. “How—?”

“I don’t know how the little bitch managed it.”

I swung.

The punch was sloppy. There was no strength behind it. Atlas didn’t budge, letting my fist collide into his side.

“How dare you accuse her,” I snarled and tried to swing my legs over the bed. I needed to stand. I needed tofight!

With a sigh, Atlas pushed me down. It was disgusting how easy it was for him to maneuver me. We were the same size. Our record in the ring was evenly matched.

“Draco!” Atlas shouted. “Get the fuck in here.”

I struggled, but the hold on me was firm. Almost gentle.

Draco rushed into the room, dropped his sandwich on the chair Atlas had vacated, and came to help. They used straps attached to the bed to hold me down. This room was designed to patch us up, and sometimes that had to be done without drugs. Now those restraints were going to keep me prisoner.

“Atlas, it wasn’t her,” I said, praying that reason won the day. “Serena didn’t shoot me. Whoever is coming for our family did. I got three of them before she shot the last.”

Flicking the last strap tight, Atlas swiveled his gaze to meet mine. “Four?”

“Yes,” I snarled. “Four assailants in balaclavas. These—” I jerked my chin to where the bandages bloomed with crimson marks “—are rifle wounds. Serena used a pistol. The one I gave her, with one last bullet. She shot her mark in the throat.”

A long sigh escaped his lungs. “There were no bodies. No blood. Just a broken dock, the mess on your boat, and a gun in her reach.”

His suspicions made sense.

I hated him for it, but I saw the scene from his point of view.

“Then someone moved the bodies before you came.”

Disdain dripped from his voice. “That had to have happened in minutes. She called, we came, she docked. There wasn’t time to move four bodies.”

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