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Gone are the days where I was in charge, but I won’t be a foot soldier either.

Taking orders has always been my biggest struggle. I am bad at respecting authority. Augustus was the exception. In my teenage brain, I saw him as my savior. Even more disturbing, I thought of him as someone more than a mentor but as a father figure.

The guards protecting the compound give me a wide breath while their fingers tap on the triggers, observing my every move.

I don’t even venture near the main house, knowing on principle that I am not allowed there. I stare at it, wanting to burn it to the ground—it represents what I could have had and never will.

There are ten men patrolling the grounds, cameras everywhere. Knowing the paranoid ass, he also has motion detectors in the ground. And I am pretty sure my lovely collar has a tracking chip.

Why my feet carry me to a tree next to his house remains a mystery, but I want him to see me. I took down his men and came out on top.

He needs to realize that nothing he can do will break me, so he should stop before my goodwill ends.

His car is not here. He must be out, but he’ll return. The thought shouldn’t soothe me as it does.

The dog watches me from behind the big window.

“What?” I mouth, staring at the black beast.

He sits down and cocks his head. We watch each other in silent companionship.

The sun has long set, and I haven’t moved from my spot.

Taking my gun out just to be prepared if someone tries to ambush me, I close my eyes, battling exhaustion. I need to stay vigilant. No danger has me on alert, but the frustration of not hearing someone sneaking up on me will make me go into a blind rage.

Plus, it’s entertaining watching the guards try to approach me, but I wave my gun, and they retreat.

The engine of a sports car permeates the silence, but I don’t move from my spot. I’ll leave it to him to decide if he’ll come or not. Or I could slip inside his house and show him for once what it’s like to get ambushed.

Shutting the door to an identical Lamborghini to the one I destroyed, he shouts my name even though I’m sure he knows where I am. He has his phone in his hand, and he clutches it tight enough it might break.

“Don’t test me.”

“So dramatic,” I say and reveal myself.

His long legs obliterate the distance between us, and he grips my chin. I didn’t look in the mirror, but I must look bad if the fury brewing in his eyes is an indication. It’s so potent that for a few moments everything else vanishes, until he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

“You attacked my men.”

“Fuck you, Enzo. I was proving a point,” I snap. Grabbing his hand, I slap the gun in his palm. “If I wanted to kill them, you’d have found none of them alive.” I push at his chest and free myself of his hold, wishing I’d escape it altogether—impossible.

Chests panting, both of us are breathing heavily.

“Get inside.”

“No, thank you,” I say sweetly, loving to rile him up.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, losing patience with me by the second. “How else will I fucking keep you alive long enough to kill you if one of my men does it before I can?”

Empty threat. Considering his reaction to one of them hitting me, I doubt he’s capable of it.

I sashay to him, wanting to provoke him. “I would say you don’t have your men under control.”

“My men are loyal, a notion you could never understand. Get inside.”

When I don’t move, he growls, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I swallow my pride, pointing at his dog. “That thing is inside.”