Page 115 of Lethal King

“Flavian Baros,” I mutter, repeating the name.

It’s a slippery name. A greasy name.

I’m sure we’ll get along famously.

“I haven’t sent anyone after the man yet, because I wanted to give you first dibs.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” I say, before pushing out into the hallway.

“Does that mean you don’t want to interrogate him yourself?” Maksim calls out after me.

“I didn’t say that,” I shout back. “Just give me twenty minutes… maybe thirty.”

With that, I turn up the stairs, juicy chicken in one hand, ice-cold water in the other.

But no matter how hard my stomach rumbles, there’s no ignoring the fire growing in my chest.

The uncontrollable envy is back. It spreads across me like a forest fire, blocking my peripheral vision as I storm down the hallway towards the room where my captive is held.

By the time I get to Rozalia’s door, my mind is made up.

I’m going after this Flavian fucker myself. But only because he’ll lead me to Leander. And if there’s one thing I’m more obsessed with than stamping out any threat to my empire, it’s making sure everyone in the underworld knows what’s mine.

Whether she likes it or not, Rozalia belongs to me.

And the idea that another man could be after her makes me go nearly blind with rage.

It doesn’t matter that I’m disgusted by the very idea of marrying her—even if only as a political tactic. She’s still my prey.

Setting down the glass pitcher, I reach into my pocket and pull out a key. It unlocks the door, and I’m already pushing it open with my ass when I reach down for the pitcher.

It nearly gets me killed.

The second my fingers touch the glass handle, a rope of wound linen wraps around my throat. My Adam’s apple is nearly crushed against the force, and I’m pulled backward.

“You bitch…” I curse, not needing to see my attacker to know who it is.

Somehow, Rozalia has gotten out of her restraints. I should have expected that. Fuck.

Before the bedroom door can slam shut behind us, I smash the pitcher against the inside of the frame. The glass shatters in my hand, and a rush of blood immediately starts gushing from the wounds.

It’s a small price to pay. A sharp shard remains gripped between my fingers. I have a weapon now.

I swing the makeshift blade blindly behind me, but Rozalia only pulls down tighter on my noose. When I try to twist around, I feel her feet dig into my back.

She’s riding me like a fucking bull.

“Die, you piece of shit,” she hisses into my ear.

I go to stab her in the eye, but she’s quick, and I only end up grazing my own cheek.

The crackle that escapes her is almost as infuriating as the thought of her doing this to another man.

“What’s. So. Fucking. Funny?” I choke out.

With all of my strength, I turn my back to the nearest wall and throw myself against it.

I can hear the wind being knocked out of Rozalia’s lungs as she’s slammed against the hard surface. Somehow, though, her grip doesn’t loosen.