Page 15 of Widow's Walk

“Come on, Sinclair. For old time’s sake,” he muses through a strained voice.

One step is all I take before a guttural sound rips through the silence. Then the storm herself comes tearing around the corner, all fire and panic. She charges through the dark, so flustered she doesn’t see me before it’s too late.

Sinclair barrels right into me. She snaps her gaze up to mine, eyes wild and lip trembling. I can vividly see how terror and pure rage try to tear her in two. Then she stares up at me, silently asking if I’m her savior or if I’m the devil in the dark.

For her sake, I’m both.

“You fucking bitch!” Royce staggers into view, hunched over and clutching his side, voice shredded from whatever blow she landed.

I take Sinclair around the waist and draw her in beside me. Then I step forward, just enough to shield her. Her body turns to stone. She doesn’t speak. She stays there, rigid against me. And I never, for a second, take my eyes off her brother.

His realization of my presence is delayed. His bloodshot eyes finally focus, and whatever fury he had before triples. He was not expecting to see me.

“Is there a problem here?” I ask evenly.

“None of your fucking business,” he snaps. His gaze flicking between me and Sinclair, who has never been so quiet. “Family matters.”

“When it comes to my fiancée, it is always my business.”

Something I said lights a fuse, and he looks at me, the bloodthirst surfacing. I keep my feet planted when he advances, his posture coiled with intent, and I’m prepared to take him down. Begging for a reason. One excuse, and I will end him.

But I lose my moment because Sinclair is suddenly between us, with a flash of silver, and a knife pressed to his throat. He freezes. He might be drunk, but not enough to mistake the promise in her eyes.

“Walk away, Royce,” she commands in an authoritative tone. Her voice low, sharp, and absolute, sending all the blood in my body to my cock. “Or I will slit you from ear to ear.” I smile. Just a little, knowing without a doubt she’d do it.

My she-devil.

Royce’s nostrils flare as he stares her down, and she matches his gaze with her fierce one. No words, only raw, unfiltered contempt crackling between them. Years of it built up and coming to a head.

Then Royce abruptly breaks away with a humorless, sharp snort. Like this is all some sort of sick inside joke only he gets. His step back is slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Sinclair’s face. But something in his eyes shifts. Something colder and twisted.

And in that moment, I know. This isn’t sibling rivalry. It’s so much deeper than that. An unspoken history that has created a war and has been simmering for years.

“If you ever, and I meanever,touch her, or look at her for too long, I won’t come between you.” I take a step forward. “I’ll go right through you.” My voice is smooth, like ice.

He gives no verbal response. His lip curls up as his eyes remain dark yet empty. He finally comes to his senses and realizes there will be no victory for him here, and he walks off.

“We should probably get back out there,” she says as if nothing happened.

I stop her when she turns to leave, catching her arm firmly. That’s all it takes for her to break. Spinning on me as if I had just let a storm loose. Fists flying, nails slashing through the air as I barely block the worst of it.

In the next breath, I have her confined against the wall with my body. Her chest is heaving, her hands are trembling, and when she looks up at me, I see it. Not only the fury burning in her eyes, but something older. Wounds that have never healed. Rage rooted in survival.

There’s pain, and it runs deep.

“Get the fuck off me, Blackwell!” she screams, baring her diamond-crested teeth and thrashes.

“Calm the fuck down. I just want to talk,” I say calmly.

“Fuck off,” she spits.

I don’t move and patiently watch as anger burns itself out until her breathing becomes somewhat normal. “Good.” I loosen myhold on her arms, but I don’t remove myself. “Why did he come after you?”

“It was nothing,” she snaps. “Just stupid family drama.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“He’s just a fucking prick, Blackwell. A drunk prick trying to start shit with me as usual.” She seems to be having difficulty meeting my eye.

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