20. Victoria

I awaketo loud voices coming from downstairs.

Sitting up abruptly, running my hand through my bird's-nest hair, I groan as the covers slip over my naked body. I'm aching from head to toe, freezing as fuck and look like something struck, I've got bite marks all over me, and my lower holes are stinging.

But it was worth it.

Every single second of that was worth it just to see how far they would go. I don't think I will be inclined to submit to them again like that. It was fun once, but it's not my style. Never say never, though.

Staggering out of bed and to the bathroom, I freshen up a bit and grab my brush and yank it through my tangled hair before I go to my dresser to pull out leggings and an oversized tee to head downstairs in to find out what is going on with all the noise.

I freeze when I pull my underwear drawer out and find a single red rose placed over my lingerie.

"Eww," I mutter, picking it up and dropping it on top of the chest of drawers. Whoever tidied up must've left it, which still begs the question of who the fuck is it. Who is creepy enough to be watching someone watching me, and then coming in to tidy up after the messy creep? That, to me, is way more insidious than the dickhead who messed it up in the first place.

Wincing with each movement, I get dressed quickly and head downstairs to the living room, where I find Cian, Luke, Gianluca, and a guy I've never seen before glaring at each other.

Cian looks up as I enter. He is on his feet in one fluid motion, coming to me to kiss me softly. "Sorry, did we wake you?"

"Yeah," I say, glaring around the room. "What's going on?"

"Sinclair here was just about to tell us why Norwich wasn't a random attack."

"Oh, really?" I drawl and move in closer, pinning Sinclair's gaze with ferocity because this entire situation has worked my last remaining nerve, which was frayed to begin with. "And what, pray tell, do you know about this, dickface?"

Cian snorts so loudly that he chokes and starts coughing, and Sinclair gives me a haughty stare before he backs down. There is no way in hell he is going to beat me in a stare-off contest, not with the mood I'm in right now.

"Well, that's the million-pound question," Cian rasps, sitting back down. "We were just getting to that."

"I'm not sure I should be talking about this with you in the room," Sinclair says to me, squinting at me as if that will make me disappear into the ether.

"Why the fuck not?" Cian barks.

"Stroud will have my balls when he finds out I'm telling you," he says to Cian.

"Hey," I say, tapping him on his shoulder so he looks back at me. "Who do you think I learned from? And let me tell you when I say a woman is way more creative with a set of balls than a middle-aged dude, so fear me more than him. ‘Kay?"

He blinks at me, mouth agape. He is probably the same age as my dad. Maybe a bit older and is clearly not used to being talked to by a mere woman. But he will learn that this is the next gen and girls are more badass than boys. Every. Fucking. Time.

"Fine," he grumbles, and I stand down.

For now.

Sitting next to Cian to show a united front, I take his hand, and he kisses it briefly, eyes never leaving Sinclair. "Talk."

Sinclair sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "There is a student at Norwich University, one who was recently discovered to have mafia ties. We thought this had been contained, but somehow the information got to the Reapers, and they went there to exterminate this person."

"And did they?" I ask before anyone can get a word in.

"No. The two who died were innocent bystanders. The girl, Sorcha, was unharmed."

"Woman," I mutter.

"Hmm?"

"Woman," I say louder.

He actually rolls his eyes at me, and Cian has to physically restrain me by grabbing my upper arm as I rise to kill this motherfucker where he sits. He yanks me back into my seat, and I hiss at Sinclair. "Roll your eyes at me again, and I'll dig them out with a spoon. And then let you live."

"Ouch," Luke mutters. "That's mean."

Snickering, I give him a sassy smile. "Exactly."

"Can we focus please," Cian snaps, getting pissed off with all the side-tracking and I force myself to behave. "Who the fuck is she?"

"Your sister," Sinclair says, stopping us dead in our tracks. "Well, your half-sister."

"Fuuuuuuuck," I mutter into the deathly silence.