Page 16 of Possessive Mr. Pen

“The game is dangerous enough already.Watch yourself, nephew,” he warns.

“Always,” I answer.

He nods and leans his head back on the swing.

I accept his dismissal and wash my mug before tossing my duffel into my car and snatching my keys off the dash.

The old man would have snuck into my car whether it was locked or unlocked.I left the keys in plain sight as a truce in hopes he wouldn’t destroy the jammers I have hidden throughout the vehicle.

Morality may have grey areas, but respect does not.My uncle may have taught me the most despicable ways to decimate my enemies, but he also taught me a specific code of conduct.

After over a decade in special forces—I’m still not sure which branch despite being with him since I was eight years old—he and Uncle Levi, who served in the same unit for a time, have skills not for the faint of heart.

It’s because of them I’m the man I am today.Hilary saved me, but they built me from a sniveling, weak little boy to the unstoppable force I am now.

I bury my musings and focus my attention on plans and contingency plans on my drive back into the city.

I owe Hilary everything, but I can’t disrespect my uncles by letting all their efforts go to waste.I will have my revenge.

Without Hilary, I wouldn’t still be alive, but even though I’ve built more wealth than any one person could ever spend in an entire lifetime, it’s not enough.

I’m not worth a single cent if I can’t annihilate the monsters in power.Without first avenging my mother, I’ll never be the man Hilary deserves.

I will decimate the Koch family with the skills my uncles taught me—and with her by my side.

Chapter 5

Hilary Winthrop

Awareness prickles along my napeas Connor’s eyes lock on me while I greet my friends.As the wedding coordinator begins a tour of the venue, I ignore him and take vigil at the back of the group of single ladies.

I harden my heart around the sorrow pulsing through me.My visit with my sister this morning proved worse than our phone call yesterday.It hurt to watch her grow increasingly frustrated as her mouth refused to form the words in her mind and to hear her stumble through the same question over and over again.

She’s never been this bad before.Not even right after her injury.

Guilt, fear, and frustration fester within me, and I catch myself tuning out during the tour.Even admonishing myself doesn’t keep my mind in the present.When I miss a prompt and find myself standing alone amidst cloth-covered tables, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Hannah is alive.It’s okay if she has bad days.We all do.But I can’t shake the fear that she’ll deteriorate and never return to me.What if she forgets who I am?What if she forgets who she is?What if she forgets she has a sister?

Or worse, what if she remembers everything?

I swallow the lump in my throat and dab the wetness from my right eyelashes before opening my eyes.No matter how upset I am, this is my friend’s wedding rehearsal.I will not ruin the mood with my melancholy.

After plastering a fake smile on my face, I roll my shoulders back and spin toward the door.

Emerald orbs capture mine.

Connor Pen.

Like a predator playing with their cornered prey, he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes trained on me.His long legs and muscular forearms short-circuit my brain.

Every cell in my body buzzes to life.I curse my reaction—and his handsomeness—and force my mind away from dirty memories.

He quirks a mocking brow.The disappointment in his gaze pours acid down my spine.

“You’re distracted,” he accuses.

Red-hot anger slams through me.