Page 82 of Pretty Vengeful Queen

Dante crosses his arms over his chest. “Nope.”

Sienna flips her straggly hair and narrows her eyes at him. “Trust me, he’s not gonna like that.”

Dante usually operates at a much more even keel, somehow able to look out at the world from a laid-back place of humor and acceptance even during seriously shitty times. Not so much right now, though, and I love him a little bit harder for that, since I know it comes from a place of unshakeable loyalty to Maddoc.

But unfortunately, we can’t ignore the fact that Sienna is probably right.

“Dante,” I say softly, resting my hand on his bicep. It feels like coiled steel, and he’s still got his body mostly angled to block me from Sienna, protecting me in case she turns out to be a threat. But as pissed off as he is, he doesn’t ignore me.

We share a look, clearly both aware that whatever Sienna’s playing at could very well be some kind of trick or a trap she’s cooked up with Austin. But finally, Dante gives me a slight nod. “Maddoc will want to know about this.”

I can see how much he hates giving Sienna her way in anything at all, so I whip out my phone and make the call.

Maddoc answers right away. “You okay, butterfly?” he asks, worry making his voice snap.

“Totally fine,” I assure him. “Really, I am. But we’ve, uh, got a weird development here.”

“Where are you?” he asks sharply.

“Reaper territory. I’m with Dante. I just got some ink from Nico, and—”

“You did, huh?” Maddoc interrupts, practically purring as his voice goes from hard to pure heat. “Then I’m definitely gonna need you to come back to the house so I can inspect—”

“Actually,” I cut in, hating Sienna more than I already did for having to interrupt him. “We found Sienna Morgan here.”

I get a split second of silence. Then he speaks again, his voice flat. “She’s in Reaper territory?”

“She was waiting for us.” I meet Sienna’s eyes, keeping my voice neutral because there’s no way in hell I’m falling for the little quiver in her chin. Even if it’s real, I’m with Dante on this one. “She wants to talk to you.”

This time, the silence goes on a little longer. I’m sure Maddoc’s just as shocked as Dante and I are.

But I’m also not surprised when he tells me he’s on his way.

“Tell Dante to bring her to Clancy’s,” he says in a clipped voice. “Logan and I will be there in ten.”

It’s the same dive bar I first approached the Reapers for help in. It feels like a lifetime ago, but this time, it also feels like I belong.

Sienna, on the other hand, doesn’t.

Dante keeps a firm grip on her as he hustles her to a booth in the back, then pulls a weapon once he has her seated and keeps it trained on her under the table as we wait for his brothers.

I make a move to slip in the booth next to him, but he shakes his head.

“Keep a lookout at the door, princess. Let me know when Madd and Logan get here.”

Since it’s not like there’s any way he won’t know once they do, and it’s definitely not like Maddoc and Logan aren’t going to be able to find us in the tiny place, I’m pretty sure it’s just Dante’s overprotective instincts kicking in to demand that I stay away from the potential threat.

I don’t fight him on it, though. I fucking love him for it. I don’t plan on letting my men see me as someone weak who needs protecting all the time, but I also don’t mind giving in when it will give them a little peace of mind, either.

Maddoc and Logan roll up a few minutes later, and the way they each give me a quick once over, their relief at finding me safe and unharmed quickly masked once they turn their attention to Sienna, just confirms that I made the right choice.

Maddoc leads the way back to the booth, and Logan takes my arm much like Dante did before, keeping me not-so-subtly behind him. Once we get there, neither of them take a seat, and Maddoc crosses his arms over his chest.

“What do you want?” he asks Sienna without any preamble.

She starts to give him what looks like it might become a sultry smile, but whatever expression she sees on his face makes her sigh and drop it. Instead, she waves a hand, taking in Dante, Logan, and me with the gesture. “Can we speak in private, please?”

“We are,” Maddoc says flatly. The bar is practically deserted, and the few patrons near the front are smart enough to ignore us.

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