Page 68 of Sinful Lord

“Sleep tight, angel,” I whisper, removing the broken door and then carefully placing it back into place when I’m out in the hallway. “I’ll keep the nightmares away—even if I have to become one to do it.”

15

Tytus

Fortunately, the spot where Yasha agreed to meet me isn’t too far from Melina’s apartment—not that I gave her a choice.

The heiress must be panicking. Hell, each text she sent me was more pitiful and desperate than the last.

If I didn’t have such a precious package to protect, then I might not have sent her any reply at all. Instead, I would have let her stew in her fear, at least until I decided it was time to release every last tape I have on her.

But those tapes can stay hidden for a little while longer. I want something from Yasha. And she’s going to give it to me—whether she likes it or not.

“Finally,” I grumble when Yasha’s black Cadillac pulls to a stop across the empty street.

Cranking my neck, I take one last look at the video feed playing on my phone. Melina is still sleeping peacefully, undisturbed, as I shove my phone in my pocket and head toward the idling car.

The tinted window on the driver’s side door rolls down as I approach. All I see is a pale forehead. The heiress’ eyes are covered by thick sunglasses. Clearly, she’s trying to hide her fear from me.

It’s not working. I can practically smell it.

“No more funny shit,” I bark, my patience already wearing thin.

“I wouldn’t—”

But even the sound of Yasha's voice sets me off. All I can think of is what I just shared with Melina. I would have never gotten to experience any of that if Yasha and her goons had gotten their way. No. I’d be rotting in some warehouse alleyway. Dead.

Now it’s my turn to feel a strike of fear. But it’s not a fear I’m used to feeling. This fear is more abstract. It’s a fear of missing out on something I’ve already experienced; of losing a future that I’m already obsessed with.

No one is allowed to rip me away from Melina.

No one.

“Shut up,” I growl. Grabbing the edge of Yasha’s half-open window, I pull down with a brutal tug.

She yelps as the glass shatters beneath my bloody hand.

“Tytus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what they were—”

“Stop,” I growl. “I’m not here for your excuses. I’m here for what you can give me. It’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

That shuts her up. Yasha’s quivering upper lip freezes and even the Botox can’t keep her cheeks from melting.

“You wouldn’t kill an innocent woman…” she croaks.

“Oh, come off it,” I spit. “You’re anything but innocent.”

“But you don’t kill women, remember?” she desperately reminds me.

“You’re making me rethink my policy.”

Crocodile tears start to well up in Yasha’s pale green eyes.

“Tytus, please. I did everything you said. I came here even though I’m terrified. I set up a meeting with a connected slum lord for you. I brought the vault I keep in my office. Look, it’s all in the trunk, take everything inside, I don’t—”

“Open it for me,” I interrupt.

Taking a step back, I grab the driver’s side handle and pull the door open. Glass crunches beneath my feet.