Page 161 of Sire
I feel it.
I don’t think I can breathe through it.
Pushing open the iron gate between the graveyard and our building’s parking lot, I chew my trembling lip, not sure if I should start a Bratva war or book the next flight to Moscow.
What if I’m being impulsive? Naive? Even immature? Patience has never been my virtue. What if I pull the trigger on Sire’s secret and ruin everything? What if I?—
“Wren.”
A husky voice makes me jump. Reaching for the gun in my bag, it’s training; I whip around, my thumb flipping off the safety, my aim landing on a shocked face.
“Whoa, whoa, my queen.”
My shoulders sag. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Same.” Loch grins with his hands up. “I need to borrow a pair of his boxers now.”
At the mention of Sire, I twist my lips, blinking back tears.
“You okay?” Loch reaches for me.
“Yeah,” I lie with my cheek smushed against his marble pecs.
“Where’s Jace?”
“I don’t need an escort everywhere I go.”
Lowly, Loch warns, “Wren, you know better.”
“I’ll give you cookies if you don’t lecture me.”
“Deal.”
Once we’re inside, I open the laundry room, and Onyx mewls at my feet. Courtesy of Axel and Ruby’s mama cat, Sparky, this orange tabby kitten has been my one joy. Well, two joys, counting our little secret no one knows about.
I pick him up, nuzzling the wet, black spot on his nose. “Hey, buddy. You hungry?”
“Fucking starving,” Loch answers for him, making himself at home, searching through my refrigerator. “What is this shit? Rabbit food?”
“No, it’s salad and rotisserie chicken.”
For the baby, I make myself eat healthy meals. Otherwise, I’d have no appetite.
“Where’s all the biscuits and ham and mashed potatoes?” he huffs, frustrated.
“Okay, DoorDash.” I flop down on the sofa, letting Onyx crawl over me. “Next time, call ahead with your dinner order.”
Grabbing the tin of cookies I made for the church kids, Loch falls into Sire’s black leather chair. “What time does he usually call?”
It used to be any minute. But now? I won’t blow his cover. “Some nights he doesn’t call. He can’t get a signal.”
Angrily, Loch chomps a cookie. “I need his advice. He’s the only one who can calm me down.”
“Calm you down from what? Murdering my Snickerdoodles?”
“No.” He swallows. “Murdering someone over Alena.”
I lean forward, relieved for the distraction. “What happened?”
