Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Hook

“You’re not focusing.”

Nigel isn’t wrong. Twenty minutes into this meeting to go over anything pertinent that went down last night and my mind keeps wandering back to Tink up in my bedroom. How she woke me up with a demand to give me a blow job. And then promptly bolted and locked herself in the bathroom.

I shouldn’t have left her like that. She was obviously out of sorts and fucked up, but I can’t be sure that staying would have helped more than it hurt. Which is why I’m sitting here, listening to my cousin go over information that I can guarantee I won’t retain. I drag my hand over my face. “Sorry.”

“How are things coming with her?”

I huff out a rough laugh. “How do you think? Fighting or fucking. Those are the only two modes we have.” Fucking isn’t on the menu right now, either. I’ve laid out my terms, and I’ll be damned before she convinces me to walk them back. I’m the unstoppable force to Tink’s immovable object, and I have to be the one to win. Too much rests on it.

Though I’d be lying if I said fucking her had anything to do with securing the territory against further coups. The marriage was enough to get that ball rolling. No, I want Tink on her knees for me. I want her. Full stop. That’s reason enough for me.

“You could try talking to her.”

I give him the look that deserves. Nigel sighs. “Fine. Fuck. Do what you want. I’ve already put out the news of your wedding. Had some of the kids talk it up on social media, too, in case he’s monitoring that.”

Hard to say. Peter was always a traditionalist, though I suspect it’s because he doesn’t trust new technology. Social media makes the rules more fluid and can get the unwary into trouble, especially when they move through the shadows like we do. Illegal activities and the publicness of the internet do not go well together.

“He’s got people watching us. One way or another, he’ll know she’s here soon.” If he doesn’t already. The knowledge gives me a petty level of satisfaction. Everything of his is mine now. His territory. His people. Even his woman. Tink having belonged to Peter at one point doesn’t make the list of reasons why I want her, but the truth is less important than perception.

A challenge of one monster to another.

Nigel leans back and stretches his arms over his head. “I’ve already reached out to Hades to negotiate having our people pick up her stuff.”

“Good.” It might make her feel more secure to be surrounded by her shit. And she’s got her clothing business to take into account. That won’t stop just because she’s living here. She’d gut me if I so much as suggested it, and I’m not cruel enough to carve away one of the things she fought so hard to establish in her independence. Especially when it’s presents an opportunity to be such an asset.

That doesn’t mean she’ll be able to move around with the same ease she used to. She’s no longer an employee of Hades and in possession of a neutral place as a result. She’s mine, and there are legions of strings that come with that new role.

I file that away as one more thing we have to talk about. Fight about. The same fucking thing.

“Hook!” Colin comes skidding into the room, his eyes too wide.

Instantly, I’m on my feet. “What’s going on?”

“It’s her. Tink. She’s …” He looks over his shoulder like he expects her to appear there and rip him a new one. When he finds the hall empty, he tenses further. “She’s trying to leave. Edgar is holding her off, but it’s not looking good.”

Considering Edgar is six-five and nearly three hundred pounds of muscle, I don’t want to know what Tink’s doing to make it look bad. I share a glance with Nigel, and we both decide speed is the best option because when I sprint after Colin, he’s right on my heels.

The scene I find in the entrance of the building would make me laugh if I didn’t have the intense desire to throttle everyone involved. Edgar is blocking the double doors as best he can, using his body as a shield. Tink stands in front of him, holding a truly impressive knife. It looks like something a hunter would use, large and serrated. Where the fuck did she get that?

“Tink.” I put enough snap in her name that she actually looks at me. Apparently the time apart has not calmed her down any. She looks just as panicked as she did when she ran from me earlier. It makes me want to go to her, but there’s the knife to consider.

And the fact that she’s threatening one of my people who is simply doing his job.

“Put the knife down.” I hold her gaze as I say it. “Now.”

She bares her teeth at me. “Make me.”

“Oh baby, you do not want me to do that.” Wife or not, I can’t let her undermine me in front of an audience. I start for her. Her eyes go wider yet, and the little asshole takes a swipe at me. It’s a good strike, fast and low. If I were anyone else, she might have actually succeeded in gutting me.

I grab her wrist and wrench her arm away from both of us, holding it wide so she doesn’t cut herself by accident. “Drop it.”

“Die in a fire.”

My patience, already worn thin by too much stress over too short a period of time, snaps. I twist her wrist, and the blade clatters to the ground. She’s still fighting because of course she’s still fucking fighting. The woman will come back swinging as long as she draws breath and, while I admire that part of her as much as the rest, it doesn’t change the fact that I cannot let her challenge me. Not like this. Not when I’m holding on to the power in this territory by my fucking fingertips.

I grab Tink and haul her over my shoulder. She’s kicking and punching and hissing like a pissed off cat, but I ignore her as I turn and stalk back through the building to the elevator. I ignore her demands to be put down the entire ride back to my suite. I stalk to the bed and toss her onto it, careful to ensure she lands on her ass in the middle of it.

“You dickwad!”

I’m on her before she has a chance to do more than push up onto her hands. I press my palm to the center of her chest and keep her from sitting up farther, but I don’t force her down. I’m not even really holding her down, just exerting enough pressure to stop her from rushing the exit again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You don’t get to ask me that after manhandling me like I’m some kind of … I don’t even know what! It’s unforgivable!”

She’s worked herself into a frenzy, and under different circumstances, I might be able to dredge up some sympathy for how fucked her life’s become. A part of her has to see recent events as representation of her being right back where she started—the woman of a territory leader. A pawn.

I can’t afford sympathy right now, because I am a territory leader. If I was just a man, the rules would be different, but I am so much more. The responsibility of it threatens to break me on the best of days and this is hardly that. I press her back to the bed and try to keep my voice tight and contained when all I want to do is roar in fury and frustration. “You pulled a knife on my man.”

“He wouldn’t get out of my way.”

As if that makes it okay. I glare down at her. “Don’t pull that twisted logic bullshit. Not with me. You are my wife—”

“Yeah, you keep reminding me. Maybe you should tattoo your name on my ass.”

“Don’t tempt me.” The threat is heavy in my voice. My name on her ass would satisfy a primal part of me that I don’t make a habit of letting out to play. I’ve learned better than others there’s little this world gives me it won’t take away again. Food. Shelter. Even family. It’s all temporary when it comes right down to it. If you don’t have power, someone else who does have power will determine if they’re in the mood to allow your very survival. I’ve been the former. Now I’m the latter, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to never go back again. If it was only me …

But it’s not. It hasn’t been since I took over the territory and it never will be again.

Losing my place as its ruler means hundreds of people at the mercy of a monster like Peter. If not him, then another who’s willing to kill their way to the top. I’ve done unforgivable things to ensure I remain on top. Things that have stained my soul in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have a choice. I was born into this world, and I did what it took to survive. Same as Peter and my father, when it comes right down to it. When we were kids, everything was outside of our control The choices we make as adults? We have no one to blame but ourselves. I have no one to blame but myself.

It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I’ll keep doing them because there are too many people who depend on me not shying away from making hard choices. Better that I bear the scars than stand by, unharmed, while innocents are victimized.

Innocents like Tink was when Peter first drew her in.

And that’s the kicker. I don’t want to hold Tink with a loose grasp the same way I have with relationships in my past. Fucking and fun is all I was ever down for, and every single person knew the score before they came to my bed. This is different. She is different. When I’m with her, I want to strip her down, clasp a collar around her throat, brand her ass—do whatever it takes to ensure she’ll never leave me.

I take a slow breath and remove my hand. I haven’t hurt her, but overwhelming her with my larger body is inexcusable.

A lot of shit I’ve done to get my ring on Tink’s finger is inexcusable.

Her mouth opens, and her brain finally seems to catch up with her emotions because she shuts it without firing back some additional impulsive threat. Finally. I sit back. “You are my wife. Your actions are an extension of mine. Threatening my people—our people—is out of the question.”

“You can’t trap me here.”

“What the fuck do you think is going to happen the second you walk out on the street? Peter got to you in Hades’s territory. How much more likely is he to get to you here, where he still has plenty of people who remember the good old days when he let them run rampant? Where those same people only remember you as the woman who belonged to him?” I want to shake her. “Think, Tink. Stop panicking because you realize you’re falling for me and get your head on straight.”

She sits up so fast, she almost smashes me in the face with her forehead. “I am not falling for you.”

Fuck, but this woman can drive me up the wall quicker than anyone else in existence. “I see,” I say evenly. “You feeling emotionally vulnerable after sucking my cock this morning has absolutely nothing to do with your erratic and dangerous behavior downstairs.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I was not acting erratic or dangerous.”

“Yes, you were. You know the last person to threaten Edgar with a knife in what was supposed to be a safe space? Peter.” She flinches, but I keep going, drilling the point home. “He threatened the people who pledged their loyalty. He bullied and used his power to get what he wanted and let his every whim decide his actions.”

“Stop it,” she whispers. “I’m nothing like him.”

I don’t know why I expect her to include me in that, to set me apart from the man who terrorized her for four long years. I don’t know why it stings like a motherfucker that she doesn’t. “No, you’re not. He’s a monster.” Like me. “You’re in over your head and scared.” I have to get her to listen. Her safety and the success of my plan both hinge on her obeying me. “The people in this house, the people who are under our protection, don’t care about your motivations. All they care about are your actions.”

She inches back from me. “I hate you.”

Another sentence that strikes right to the heart of me. How the fuck can she not hate me after everything? I give her an arrogant grin to keep the truth buried deep—I don’t know if I can ever win Tink’s trust in any lasting way. “Try saying that with some conviction next time.” I have to get out of here. Fighting with Tink might be satisfying in a very particular kind of way, but I need to go undo the damage she just caused and keep Peter from doing damage of his own while I’m distracted with my new wife. He’ll be coming, and soon.

It’s certainly not because part of me is sure that I’ll turn around and find her staring at me with real fear in those big eyes. I climb to my feet. “I’m having your shit brought here as soon as we can manage it. Try not to burn down anything in the meantime. I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Dinner.” She looks at the large clock hanging just to the side of the cabinets in my kitchen. “It’s barely eight.”

“Yeah.”

“You said I was going to integrate with the household today.”

I’m holding onto my temper through sheer force of will. “You were, Tink. Right up until you threatened one of my people with a knife and created a mess that I have to go clean up. I’ll see you tonight.” I head for the elevator. I have to. Staying here will mean sitting down and talking through what the hell is going on in her head and … I want to know. I really, truly want to know. I want to ease her fears. To build trust. To make a whole list of promises I have no business making.

Instead, I walk away.