Page 206 of Midnights
I sit back, phone in hand, hesitating before I give in and text back.
Me: You need to get a life, man. You’re paid to be my head of security, not a voyeur.
The screen keeps playing, fast-forward through the monotony of drunken noise and empty glances. None of it matters. Not until her face flashes across the feed. And just like that, everything else stops.
That fucking dress.
My phone vibrates, but I ignore it. I drag the footage back to a normal speed, locked on the screen as she moves through the gardens.
What I see makes my blood go cold.
My fingers tighten around the arm of my chair, and my jaw is locked so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked a tooth. The frame-by-frame replay is damning.
I watch her stumble, jaw tight with pain, but she doesn't break. Doesn't run. The bastard grins and she answers by driving her elbow into his gut. He folds, and her knee follows, nailing him where it hurts most.
The longer I watch the more rage I feel.
I throw my glass across the room when I see her take another hit.
The way she moves, tells me everything. She’s trained.
There's nothing accidental in the way she moves. I've seen fighters like her before—the ones who don't panic when they take a hit. The ones who don't flinch, because they know showing pain gives their opponent leverage.
My violent little princess knows how to defend herself, and I need to know why.
I’m also realizing with painful clarity that she lied to me. Said she tripped. She looked me in the eye and fuckinglied. But why?
Pride? Maybe. But that's not enough.Who the fuck is she protecting?
My grip tightens around the edge of my desk as fury simmers under my skin like a barely restrained beast. This happened inmyhouse. Undermywatch.
I push back so fast the chair nearly falls over when I stand. There’s a difference between anger and rage. One flares hot and dies quick, and the other burns steady.
And right now?
I’m fucking livid.
The sharp ping of my phone pulls me back, reminding me I have an unread message.
Ren: I didn’t watch those two getting it on. Gross. Should have clarified. There’s a dude assaulting some chick. Thought you’d want to see it.
Me: Find out who the fuck he is.
Ren: Already on it boss. I’ll send everything as soon as I’ve got it.
Without wasting another second, I pull up Raven’s number, hovering over the call button. Enough waiting. She’s going to tell me why she lied.
The door swings open, and Cam strides in like he owns the place.
“You’ll never guess who just called asking for a favor,” he announces, heading straight for the bar and pouring himself a drink without so much as a glance in my direction.
I look up, patience wearing thin. “Who?”
He takes his time, dropping into the chair across from me with an ease that grates on my nerves. He swirls his glass, with a sharp grin. “Rachel.”
I figured.
“She texted me and asked if I could help her dig up some info. Apparently, they’ve hit a dead end on something, and lucky me, I came to mind.” He takes a slow sip, waiting for my reaction.
