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No. No no no.

“Is that—” Balor growls.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper.

“My dad.”

Chapter Thirteen-Balor

Alright, so I’m barely awake.

Still tangled up in the warmth of Lucy’s body—my Lucy.

Her skin pressed to mine, her hair a mess against my chest, one of her legs tossed across my hips like she owns me.

And she does.

Completely.

I’d burn the fucking world for her, and last night proved it.

I’ve never known peace like this. Never wanted to.

And for a second—one blissful, arrogant second—I think nothing can ruin this moment. That’s my first mistake.

Of course, that’s when fate, that vindictive bitch, pulls the rug out from under me.

There’s a crash downstairs.

Glass shattering. A door slams open. Fast, heavy footsteps.

My phone lights up on the nightstand.

Missed calls. Blown-up messages.

Then the intercom buzzes again.

The whole house feels like it’s vibrating.

Lucy stirs against me, and I barely have time to sit up—still naked, still dazed—before my bedroom door flies open with the force of a goddamn SWAT team breach.

Marat Volkov. The Devil Wolf himself.

All six-foot-something of his fallen angel fury, storming into my bedroom like God himself just gave him clearance to end me.

And I’m standing there.

Naked.

Between him and his daughter.

Of fucking course I am.

Lucy gasps, dragging the sheet over her chest, eyes wide and panicked. I stay where I am.

Between her and danger.

Even if this time the danger is her own goddamn father.