Page 18 of Lethal King

“I swear, this is—”

Before I can finish cursing, the faint sound of hurried footsteps yanks my attention away from my sister and towards my office door.

Almost immediately, I’m overcome by a primal instinct. My fingers snap back into fists. My hackles rise again. Blood rushes into my ears, muffling the world. I reach for the gun tucked beneath my belt.

Maksim feels it too. In the blink of an eye, we’re both in front of Mel, blocking her from any potential harm.

No one’s allowed up here, and the only two people who could peacefully break that order are already next to me.

Behind us, the black cat hisses.

“Who is it?” Maksim booms.

Cocking his gun, the experienced killer takes a steady step forward. I’d join him, if I weren’t already pushing Mel further back from the open doorway.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Her voice is hushed, but I can tell she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

This is why I didn’t want her here. Mel isn’t made for this world.

“Stay quiet,” I grunt. “And get ready to run if I tell you to.”

“What about the kitten?”

“Sir!” A new voice creaks through the hallway just as Maksim lunges outside to greet it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he barks. “You were told not to disturb us.” But even as he lowers his gun, my tensed shoulders don’t drop.

Something is wrong. I can feel it.

Lifting an arm, I hold Mel back.

“I need to speak to Mr. Kilpatrick.”

The voice is faintly familiar. It’s one of my men, I’m sure.

“Whatever you want to say to him, you can tell me,” Maksim tells him.

“Let him in,” I call out, fingers still wrapped tightly around the handle of my gun.

Maksim hesitates. A rare instance of disobedience. But when his intense eyes turn back into the room, and his gaze drifts over my shoulder, I understand why.

He wants to protect Mel.

Whatever we’re about to be told, it can’t be good news. No one would dare disobey us for the sake of good news.

On another day, I might wait until Mel was safely ferried out of the room before I let any bad news slip through these walls. But Maksim’s words of wisdom have stuck to my pounding skull like shrapnel. One step at a time.

“Be quick about,” Maksim tells the messenger, stepping aside.

Keeping his eyes peeled on our new guest, my uncle allows him to step into the office. Sure enough, it’s one of my men—a battle-worn Irish enforcer.

The blood rushes from my ears, but I stay tense.

The chatter outside is louder than before. Much louder.

“What the fuck is going on?” I growl.

“There’s something you need to see,” the man pants, half out of breath.