Page 66 of Forbidden Empire

Helena’s eyes stayed firm, her voice steady. “Protection isn’t absolution.” The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed like a gavel, final and unyielding.

Her words barely dented the pounding in my skull. I kept pacing toward the map wall, the same maze of streets and alleys blending together as I traced them for what had to be the thousandth time.

The trail ended at Rhea’s compound. I’d tailed her there, watched her sweep in with her people.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, trying to breathe, feeling every inhale as if it might break me in two. I’d torn through this city for days, leaving a wreck behind me, and still had nothing. Not even a whisper.

The maps blurred in front of me, Rhea’s territory splattered over the city in red circles like bloodstains.

Zero.

We’d ripped through every property, nothing left but dust and disappointment.

The paper crumpled in my fist, veins popping along my forearm as I tried not to shred it into confetti.

“Fuck!” The shout cracked out of me, bouncing off the walls.

Over in the corner, our guest twitched, coming around like someone who’d overslept for a job interview he never wanted.

I crossed the room in three long steps, dropping my shadow over him before his brain could catch up.

My hand knotted in his filthy hair, dragging his head back. His right eye was swollen shut, purple-black and ugly, and fresh blood snaked down from the split in his bottom lip, painting his chin bright red.

"Last chance," I said, my voice dropping to a register I hardly recognized. "Where is Esme?"

My fist met his cheekbone, a sharp, clean hit. I felt the jolt run all the way to my shoulder. A fine red mist peppered the wall behind him, almost pretty if you ignored the context.

He spat a tooth onto the filthy floor. "Doesn't matter now. Rhea's got her stashed someplace you'll never find."

Something in me snapped. Before I blinked, my knuckles crashed into his face again, caving in what was left of his left eye socket. Ugly, purple, swollen.

I leaned in, so close the blood-tinged copper stung my tongue. "Then Rhea better start saying her goodbyes."

I shoved him away, hard, sending him crashing into the wall. My boot caught the edge of a table and flipped it. Glass decanters shattered on the marble floor. Bourbon splashed everywhere, soaking the maps and bleeding the ink into a giant mess. The smell of liquor flooded the room, thick and sweet, like perfume at a funeral.

Something cracked in my chest.

Not pain.

More like the sound of ice splitting on a frozen lake.

Dangerous. Final.

Every time I blinked, I saw Esme's face. The sharp eyes. That stubborn, impossible mouth.

The idiot. The gorgeous, reckless idiot.

Just waltzing straight into Rhea’s trap like it was nothing.

What the hell had she been thinking? I wanted to be mad, but something worse took over, a cold, clawing panic.

Because Rhea wouldn’t just kill her, death would be the easy way out.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

What if that bastard was right? What if I was too late? What if I’d already lost her?

The thought was too much. Just imagining it made my chest tight. Because if I let that nightmare happen, I’d never be the same man. Losing her would rip me apart. The anger would eat me alive, day after day, until there was nothing left.