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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Griffin

On the helicopter,Shane sits with a tablet and a stylus drawing over the building’s blueprints like he’s playing a video game.

“Where are the four guards, Shane?” I ask him.

“Still inside,” he confirms with confidence.

“I had a team grab the other two,” Connor says. “Are we killing them?”

The bird goes silent except for the blades humming above.

“No.” I’m in charge now. All blame points to me. “Not right away. Let’s see how this goes down.”

Working for Riordan O’Rourke has put a taste of blood in Connor’s mouth that he’s finding fairly addictive. I’m watching him closely, but I think he’s becoming a bit psychotic. Yet, it’s what we need right now dealing with enemies all over the place.

We all had to step up our ruthless game to run a house of savages. Even Shane.

“What happens if Brandon escapes after we land?” I ask, looking at my brothers.

“My team will grab him, too,” Connor says, sitting back. “They’re in position.”

“I don’t care what Brandon does to your guys, he’snotto be killed, Connor,” I order, gritting my teeth. “Unless we find Ava alive.”

Connor checks his gun, and I wish we had Trace and Rhys with us. They are more skilled marksmen. But Unhinged Connor will have to do.

“What kind of condition do you think we’ll find Ava in?” Shane asks.

Something strikes my heart, and I suddenly can’t breathe. Glancing from him to Connor, I ask, “Do either of you know what Ava looks like?”

Shane and Connor exchange glances, then Connor shakes his head at me. “Ares didn’t show you a picture?”

“Her looks didn’t exactly matter if I was being forced to marry her.” I wipe the sweat beading up on my right eyebrow.

Somewhere my subconscious fled on a detour. After taking one look at six-foot-four, olive skin, strapping Ares, I probably thought to myself: Good genes run in that family.

“How many women do we think we’ll find with Brandon?” Shane calls out our stupidity. “From day one, Brandon’s had her.”

“He’s right.” Connor sits back. “If it’s got tits, that’s our girl.”

A fierce sense of possessiveness rumbles through me.No, she’s MINE.

“I’d still like to see a picture to make sure I drag the right lass to the altar.” I glance at Shane, who scrolls on his phone. “Anything?”

“She doesn’t have a driver’s license. No social media. Any reference to her online as far as being Ares’ sister doesn’t include a photo.” He shows us his tablet.