Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Ash nodded once, then threw back the rest of his whiskey before shoving away from the table and walking the glass back to the bar.
“Use Rebel to help with the research,” King told Wizard, his expression hard. “He can take on building a profile for Marks while you keep working on the symbols. Why those? We need to find the commonality between the ones Marks is giving Elena. See if there’s a sequence or if the symbols point to a bigger operation. Look deeper. And find out why the fuck he’s made Elena a pawn in all of this.”
Wizard grunted. “He’ll slow me down, but I’ll use him.”
“Bullshit,” I snorted. Rebel was one of our enforcers and a security expert. Not just the physical shit. He knew how to secure non-traceable numbers, emails, VPNs, and more. His tech skills surpassed most.
“You saying he’s as good as me?” Wizard snarked arrogantly.
“No,” I conceded. “But you’re a freak of nature. Rebel can hold his own, and you know it. Besides, you’ll fucking fry yourself doing it solo.”
Wizard glared, but he didn’t disagree.
“Go do your shit,” Blaze ordered as he canted his head toward the door.
Everyone stood to leave, but I stayed planted when King instructed, “Onyx, hang back.”
Once the door shut behind them, leaving only the three of us, King’s voice dropped. “There’s no safer place than the compound.”
“I know.”
“If this escalates, you bring her here. Can’t have you distracted when the shit hits the fan because you’re worried about her.”
I nodded. “Already my plan.”
“Good.” King stared at me again, his expression unreadable. Then the hard line of his mouth softened just enough to tilt up. “Sending out a vest to be embroidered.”
Something in my chest loosened. “Thanks.”
He’d seen what I had taken days to accept.
Elena was mine. It was time the whole fucking world would know it.
7
ONYX
For the past few days, I’d been walking around strung so fucking tight I felt like a single spark could set me off. Not just because I was holding back with Elena, but also because a quiet storm was building behind the scenes.
Wizard had been running symbols nonstop. Ace was picking apart every dollar Marks had ever touched. Rebel was digging deep, too, and he’d hit something big yesterday. He found a syndicate tied to Marks. Not just a passing association, either. Real ties. Money, contact, and movement.
He still hadn’t figured out what Mark’s role was in it. No one had. Which was part of what made my hands itch every time I walked Elena to her apartment door at night and didn’t follow her inside.
She still didn’t know we were investigating him. Or how far it had gone. We’d kept everything from her on purpose. She was already in deep without realizing it, and I couldn’t risk her tipping her hand, partly because we had something concrete. If Marks suspected she was aware of what he was doing, there was no telling how fast this situation would spiral.
So I kept my hands to myself when I walked her home—until last night, when I’d given in to my need. I’d kissed her fiercely, barely restrained myself from taking her into her apartment, stripping her down, and claiming her as I desperately wanted to. I only allowed my hands to roam her waist as I owned it, pressing my mouth to hers until her knees went soft and she whimpered into my throat. And then I left. Again. Because I was still playing the long game. Trying to give her something worth remembering instead of just tearing into her the way I wanted.
She didn’t realize what kind of self-control that took. How hard I was under my jeans half the damn day.
But right now, protecting her meant staying sharp. Keeping my dick in my pants and my eyes on the problem.
It was beginning to take shape, but all the unknowns were carving away at my patience. Hell, I’d been more relaxed back when I went with my brothers to take down a trafficking ring. At least when you were facing down a known enemy or putting bullets in a problem, you knew where you stood. This was shadow work. Psychological, coded, and strategic.
Elena wasn’t just a bystander. She was being used. I just didn’t know how. Not until today.
She moved through the studio that afternoon like she always did—with quiet grace, focused energy, and her hair pulled up with soft wisps falling around her face. She wore those snug black jeans that hugged her hips like a second skin and a fitted charcoal T-shirt that stretched across her tits when she reached for supplies. Her apron was tied tightly around her waist, with a few smudges of ink on the front, but she still looked fucking edible.
Ink was working on a client in his booth. I was handling paperwork, half-distracted by the memory of Elena’s lips and the constant buzz of stress that never quite left my spine.