Page 78 of Sire
“Noted,” Axel chuckles.
A few minutes later, a larger figure emerges from the house, and rage crawls up my spine, one vertebra at a time. It puts pressure on my trigger finger. “That’s Waylon,” I hiss. “And he’s mine.”
“You can take a shot, Angel,” Sire growls. “But his head is mine.”
“Hold your fire.” Loch sounds calm. “If that older man is in there, we need a new plan.”
Waylon and Alan go back inside, and we watch the house while Loch and Jace circle the property. Thankfully, it’s a sunny day, and the visibility is good.
When they get back, Jace sounds skeptical. “No one’s out there. Where’s the rest of his crew?”
I watch the front door through my scope, confessing, “Oh, I poisoned them.”
Sire chuckles. Axel does, too. I lower my gun to see the rest of my men staring at me.
“What?” I shrug. “Let that be a lesson. Don’t piss off a woman and then make her cook for you.”
Nash nods, impressed. “What poison?”
I smile. “I brewed oleander into their sweet tea.”
Loch laughs. “She’s a genius.”
“She’s aqueen,” Jace admires.
But I stare at Sire, who’s gazing at me with that look I love. It’s the one that makes me feel like Joan of Arc, leading her army of ex-Bratva soldiers. He boasts, “And I need to marry her.”
“Hurry up or I will.” Axel winks at me.
To others, Axel’s a dick. I guess with everything I know about him, I understand why he’s that way. But to me, he’s sweet. Deep down, like his brothers, he’s protective of women, and I can sense it; Axel’s heart belongs to one. I just don’t know who.
And I know Nash is secretly in love with Vale. I just wish he’d tell her.
I cherish how they care for me, too. How they’re doing this for me. It’s like each king is fiercely devoted to his queen, but they’re loyal to all of us. I guess that’s how they got this far.
“Alright.” Loch signals us to huddle. “Here’s the plan…”
With my backbraced against a giant hemlock tree in the woods behind the farmhouse, I hold my position. I have a clear shot across the grassy yard, with my rifle aimed, covering the back door.
Sire’s at my three o’clock, on the edge of the clearing. Jace is at my nine, while the rest of my men storm the front door.
I’m calm. I know they’ll be okay. They move like a tactical team.
They flush Alan out the back door first, and Jace booms, “Hands up! On the ground! Now!”
Alan’s so stunned, he falls to the grass with his hands in the air.
Waylon runs out next, ripping his mask off with his left hand and lifting an AR to fire with his right…
But I’m too angry and accurate, remembering his threats and abuse. How he sold me into hell and how close he came to violating me, too.
I exhale—Asshole—firing a bullet through his right shoulder.
He spins, falling to the ground, and Sire’s on him with his rifle raised. “How you like them apples, Waylon? My badass Wren just shot you.”
Quickly, I chamber another round from the magazine. It’s my training while Sire kicks the AR out of Waylon’s hand.
He writhes on the ground in pain.
