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“Preston, my loyal accountant. Meet Amara.”
He rubs his hands before loosening his striped brown tie. “Let’s get this party started.”
Oh, it’s a party they want?
I’ll show them a party.
The best and last party of their lives.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Carter
“Carter.” Killian’s hand locks around the collar of my shirt, yanking my ass off the chair. “Wake the fuck up.”
He’s in my face, shaking me. Yelling. Doing everything he can for me to snap out of it.
I have to. Except my rage is too violent. My rage has sent me into a state of shock.
They’re in there with Amara. Our Amara.
We’ve just watched the recap of her smiling at the camera after Christopher had, then Preston. I’d recognize their gait anywhere. Knowing everything about our members is a part of my job description.
The maddening feeling paralyzes me. Has my muscles locking up. Turns me into a statue.
My brain functions. I hear Killian calling my name. I’m aware that we have to charge up there and stop this whole…
What the hell is this?
When Luna called us from the security room, telling us flower girl was here, I thought she was hallucinating. The guy watching the security feed must’ve confused Amara with someone else.
But once I opened the feed on our phones then came here to see the recap with my own two eyes, I believed it.
“Carter, I’m giving you one second, then I’m gone,” Killian barks, his dark eyes now black. “Do you hear me?”
“You need me to join you, boss?” I hear Snake, who’d been called here.
“You? After this colossal fuckup?” Killian looks over his shoulder, his voice low and terrifying.
Snake is our new giant, bald, and tattooed head of security. Giant as in taller and far wider than either Killian and me.
He could snap Killian in half. Crush his skull with his boot.
He doesn’t. He flinches, bowing his head.
“After she left her shop and your guy wasn’t on her ass?” Killian snaps.
“Boss, I’m sorry, she must have—”
This isn’t typical Killian Snake’s talking to. Even in my frozen state, I see what his rage does to him. Killian has had a switch flipped inside him, transforming him into a killing machine.
His voice is venomous. His muscles flex, stretching his jacket. The vein in his neck bulges. He’s primed to murder someone or someones.
He also makes our connection to Amara really fucking evident.
And neither of us cares about appearance when she’s not safe.
“Don’t you dare blame her for your incompetence,” Killian’s roar shakes the walls of the small security office. “You’re staying here in case shit goes down. Then we’ll discuss if you still even have a job anymore. Carter!” Another bark.
