Page 120 of Intense
“Are we going to be back in time for the party tomorrow?” Rowan asks just as the jet lifts from the tarmac, the engines humming like a prelude to violence.
“We have no choice. Unless we want Conan and Declan to take free shots at our faces in the ring.” I don’t look at him as I speak, eyes fixed ahead.
Twenty-four hours in London.
One day away from Stephanie, just enough time for her to think about what she’s done.
I open the CCTV feed on my phone. Drago hacked into the strip club for me because…well, because I asked him to. Because I need to know if my marriage is really over before it even began. I need to know if she shows up. If she makes good on her little threat.
Because if she does… she’ll unleash a level of hell she’s never seen from me. Not even close.
This is her test. She just doesn’t know it yet.
And if she passes?
Then when I return home, she’s mine. No more games. No going back.
But right now, I’ve got business to handle.
Charles Bowen is finally fucking dead. Seventy years old, a bullet through his skull, and now London bleeds because of it.
War has begun. Theo has taken over territory. It’s all falling into place.
And we’re here to formally seal our alliance. Me, Reggie, and Rowan, flying in quietly to meet with Theo King and his brothers. Once the handshake happens, the deal is done.
Then we bring our army that Enzo promised. Arthur Bowen and the rest of his men won’t know what hit them.
Rubbing my hands together, I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. I need rest. I rarely get it. My nights are usually haunted by things I can’t forget, things I’d rather drown in.
But lately? It’s not the past keeping me awake.
It’s her.
The thoughts I can’t kill. The images of what I’d do to her if she gave me her trust. Instead of shoving fucking divorce papers in my face. I still can’t believe how seeing that piece of paper hurt me so much.
“Hey, Finn,” Rowan says.
I sigh. Of course. I can’t get one moment of peace.
“Yes?” I crack one eye open.
“Are you okay?”
I blink at him.
“Yep. All fine over here.” I shut my eyes again, but I can feel it—he’s not done.
“It’s just…” he trails off, unsure.
I sit up slowly and turn to him.
“Spit it out before you choke on it.”
“You seem… more. Or less. I don’t know. You don’t seem like yourself.”
My brow furrows. I glance toward Reggie, the one more likely to understand me.
But he doesn’t contradict Rowan. That alone tells me everything.
