I trust him. Fuck, I trust Raina, but I’m in love with her. Not the way I love my brothers and cousins. We’re men. I know that makes me sexist, but it’s deep in my DNA to protect my woman.
 
 Rhys knows how gone I am for Raina and played double agent, suggesting a backup plan should hers fail.
 
 My feet keep knocking on the floorboards in my truck. Waiting for the signal. Either she succeeded, and Noel is dead.
 
 Or she failed, and I have to move in.
 
 Then my phone rings. I close my eyes, worrying about what the hell happened.
 
 And it’s worse than I could have imagined.
 
 I STORM INTO NOEL TAHIRI’Spenthouse with Rhys at my right flank. Blade and Jett glide in right behind us. “DEA” letters stitched across our black jackets got us into the building after the Feds raided the place.
 
 I didn’t come here for questions orevidence. I came to get my woman. And kill Noel if he’s not dead already. Even if I have to blow his head off in front of a federal agent.
 
 Team Quinlan sweeps in fast. Clean. The place is already chaotic. Federal agents stand over pools of blood from dead guards who were stupid enough to shoot at them. ESU teams and EMTs are swarming the place, checking for survivors or victims.
 
 I flash my fake badge and bark in a New York cop accent, “Inspector Conlon. DEA. I need access right now. Suspected Fentanyl operation here.”
 
 No one questions me. They see the confidence, the fire in my eyes, and they back the fuck off to let us through.
 
 I made my brothers stand down. And threatened all eight of Griffin’s guards and three of Shane’s to keep them the hell away from York Towers. But I don’t know how long that will hold.
 
 I don’t know what I’ll do if Raina dies. Other than dying right alongside her of guilt and a broken heart.
 
 But my heart is already broken, seeing that this operation she planned has fallen off the ledge. With wild eyes, I look around, and then my heart stops. Raina is on the floor in a corridor, limp and pale.
 
 An EMT is straddling her waist and pumping Raina’s chest. Her mouth is coated in foam, and her skin has gone gray-blue around the lips.
 
 I stomp that way, and my knees give out.
 
 “No. No.No.” My hand grabs the EMT’s shoulder. “What’s happening? What’swrongwith her?”
 
 “Suspected poisoning,” she says calmly, sweat beading at her temples. “Faint pulse, weak breathing. I’m trying to stabilize her.”
 
 Poisoning.
 
 Jesus Christ.
 
 I get to my feet and grab Rhys by the collar to slamhim against the wall.
 
 “Fuckingpoison?” I shout.
 
 Rhys’s face goes pale. “She must not have taken the antidote. Fuck.”
 
 “Look at her face,” I cry out. “Tahiri beat her up. She took the poison to kill him anyway and didn’t care if she fucking died, too. Shit!Fuck!”
 
 A few feet away, another EMT stands over Noel’s body and mutters, “No heartbeat on this one. Call the ME. What about that one?”
 
 “Unresponsive. Starting another round.” The EMT looks at me. “She’s a fighter, though. Are you really DEA?”
 
 “No. This is my fiancée.”
 
 And she’s dying. She’s dying in front of me.
 
 The short and tough-as-nails EMT working on Raina glances at me again, still compressing her chest. “Guys,” she says, her voice frayed and thinning, “she’s not coming around, find that antidote.”
 
 Rhys spins around. “The bottle must have been lost during the fight.”