Page 73 of Devil's Azalea

“Did you lead me into a trap?” Sergey growls at Jason, who frantically shakes his head, eyes wide as he glances around in confusion.

“Of course not! I don’t know who these people are!”

Sergey gets to his feet, and his men follow suit. The unidentified intruders repeat their orders over and over as they advance. Sergey signals his men, and as they reach for their weapons, the intruders close in, trying to disarm them.

I raise a brow. Why try to disarm them when they could just shoot? Are those not real guns?

“Are you behind this?” Enzo asks.

“Of course not.” But it’s an interesting intrusion.

“Then we should leave before we’re discovered. We don’t know who those people are or what they’re after.”

I don’t respond, too captivated by the fight unfolding below. These intruders are good. Really good. Their combat skills far outmatch Sergey’s men—probably because those bastards rely too much on their weapons.

One of Sergey’s men manages to draw a weapon and fires at an intruder, who staggers back. A lithe figure fighting nearby turns at the sound—a fatal mistake that gives their opponent an opening. The guy wings at the distracted fighter’s skull, barely missing as they duck back. The punch catches their jaw instead, sending their baseball cap flying.

Gloriously thick, luscious brown hair tumbles down the intruder’s back as the cap hits the floor. Then the fighter turns, and my entire world stops.

Emilia.

“Fuck,” Enzo breathes.

I’m on my feet and moving towards the window before I can think. My heart slams against my ribs as understanding crashes over me.

“We Need to leave NOW, Rafael. It won’t end well for us if the fucking FBI finds out we’re here. They must be here for either Sergey or Jason.”

No. She’s here for Jason. But they’ll take everyone they can get.

I watch, transfixed, as Emilia drives her knee into her opponent’s groin. As he doubles over with a howl that carries up here, she strikes the side of his throat with her wrist, and he crashes to the floor, unconscious.

She doesn’t pause to admire her handiwork, already moving to the next target. And the next, efficiently taking them out.Jesus Christ, she’s magnificent.

My pulse thunders in my ears, and my cock stirs as I watch her fight.

I remember our clash a year ago—how all that controlled violence focused on me. Then two nights ago, when she was on her knees before me and couldn’t get enough of my cock.

I want her, and I fucking want her right now.

“Fuck.Rafael!” Enzo’s urgent voice cuts through my haze. I glance back at him, but he’s not looking at me anymore.

I follow his gaze to one of Sergey’s men, just a few feet away, gun raised—aimed at the back of Emilia’s head.

She doesn’t notice him. She’s too focused, too locked in on her current opponent.

My heart seizes. Then everything happens at once.

I’m moving before conscious thought kicks in, wrenching the damn window open as my world narrows to a single, desperate purpose:Protect her.

25

EMILIA

My heart pounds, blood rushing hot through my veins as I fight off the criminals. Fucking hell, these men are like cockroaches. Just when you think you’ve squashed them all, more comes crawling out of some hole.

Who the hell are they?They can’t be Jason’s security—no way. And who’s this mysterious man Jason was meeting with?

Blood trickles down my temple, and I swipe it away furiously as I slam the butt of my gun into another thug’s skull, dropping him. My arms, legs—hell, my whole body—scream in protest from the hits I’ve taken, but I push through the pain.