CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

L ance lowered his gun and stepped around the debris all over the floor. Computers and screens had smashed to the ground, and chairs had been thrown around the room. Glass walls were cracked, and God knew what else he was looking at.

A dozen vampires stood cuffed and chained together in one corner of the room, with three of his black team pointing machine guns at their heads. One shot and they would be goners.

Fucking rebels. Scum of the earth.

He surveyed the room to make sure they hadn’t missed anyone before asking one of his men to continue doing the same as he took care of business in the room next door.

“Yes, sir.”

He stared at the female lying prone on the floor with her hands cuffed behind her back. A member of his team had his large booted foot resting on her back. Usually, a male treating a female this way would be frowned upon. Females were cherished for their ability to reproduce. He was all for female empowerment, but what the fuck was this one doing working for Stefano Russo?

Clearly, she was the senior vampire by the looks of her fancy dress, high heels, and corner office.

“Stand her up,” he ordered.

The soldier reached down and, more gently than he would a male, lifted her to her feet. She glared at him with huge brown eyes.

His cock twitched, and it pissed him off.

What he saw in her eyes was fear, which given the circumstances was to be expected, but it was different. He took a step forward, and she flinched.

“Don’t come near me,” she snarled. “And you, get your hands off me.”

Jesus.

He knew he was a big male, but he rarely scared females like this. Usually, they were dropping their panties for him.

A nod of his head, and the soldier left the room.

“What is your name?”

“Sofia,” she replied with a strong Italian accent, a quiver in her voice.

He stared at her a bit longer, taking in as much detail as he could. Long dark hair, a slim body, and medium height. She was classic looking in that professional kind of way.

Not his type.

Still, he noticed how her dress hugged her hips and breasts, which would fit nicely in his palms. Lean arms stretched behind her back.

“You can’t port with those cuffs, so stay where you are, and I won’t touch you,” he said, and watched as her eyes processed that information.

She was weighing her options. Smart and beautiful.

And she was his enemy.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked and stumbled suddenly as her ankle gave way under her. It was an automatic reaction to reach out and catch the female, and that’s exactly what he did.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried and stumbled more, causing him to grab more of her.

He glared down at her, feeling her tremble under his touch. Ignoring her, Lance moved her over to the sofa and sat her down. He crouched in front of her and saw the tears forming in her eyes.

“Sofia,” he said, fury running through him. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, the female lifted her face, and a tear leaked out the corner of one eye. Cursing, he clenched his fists to stop himself from wiping it away. He could see her fear and her pride fighting for dominance on her face.

“Who has hurt you?”

She shook her head and looked away over her shoulder.

“Tell me.”

For some reason, he had the sudden impulse to kill the motherfucker. Whoever it was.

“Nobody. Just fucking nobody.”

The hell it was.

The tear escaped, and without thinking, he reached out and caught it. She flinched and he cursed, clenching his hand into a fist.

He stood and gave her space, deciding in that moment that he would hunt down whoever was responsible and punish the asshole. Because there was no doubt in his mind that it was a male.