Page 186 of Morally Black Betrothal

“Oh, please. Like I give a shit where you dip your prick in your spare time. I only care about the answer to one question: what, exactly, are you willing to give up to save her?”

44

A BLACKENED SOUL

Brendan

It was everything I could do not to dive across the room and tackle Ezra fucking Huntington to the floor. I felt like a leashed wolf, rabid in a cage, as I took in Simone’s appearance: dirty, bound, her shirt torn, and the gun to her head.

“Whoa, man.” Mac’s hand found my arm, pulling me back. “Give it a beat. He’s not going to shoot her. She’s his collateral.”

Together, we scanned the room quickly. His men had been quickly dispatched, both of them knocked out and zip-tied. Right now, it was just us against Huntington, who unfortunately had the benefit of three hostages: Simone tied to a chair in the center. Her sister passed out on the floor, and the little girl, Kylie, huddled under a big table behind them.

Huntington had positioned himself behind Simone’s chair, his hand around Simone’s neck while he held the gun.

All I could see was murder. And the glassy fear in my girl’s blue eyes.

“I don’t have a clear shot,” Mac murmured. “Get him talking.”

He slid back into the shadows, but not before Huntington took note of him and the other detail I’d brought with me.

I’d come with an army. Not that it did me any good.

“Simone,” I said. “Baby. I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tears brightened those oceanic eyes. “I know. I knew you’d come.”

“Did you?” Suddenly, there was only one thing to say. It was everything I could do not to dive straight for her. Take the shot myself if I could. But if that didn’t work, and the worst happened, I needed her to know one thing. “I love you, you know that? I love you more than fuckin’ anything. Whatever happens,know that, all right?”

Her lower lip trembled. “I know. I do. And I love you too. I’m sorry I left, Brendan.Sosorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here now. We’re going to get out of this. I promise.”

How could one small exchange make me want to throw myself to my knees and commit murder at the same time? For the first time in my life, emotions were clouding every instinct I had.

I never thought this woman would ever need the cold, calculating bastard inside me, but right now, he just might save her life.

Right now, Simone didn’t need her Brendan. She needed, of all people, The Black Prince.

“This is all very touching.” Huntington shoved the gun harder against Simone’s temple, causing her to squeak. “But there’s only one thing I want to hear right now, ‘Black Prince.’ What are you going to do to save your damsel in distress?”

Somehow, I managed to tear my eyes from hers. I took satisfaction in the way the fucker shuddered when my stare found him. Even with the gun, he was scared.

Spineless fucking degenerate.

“What do you want?” I demanded. “Let her go, and we’ll negotiate. You got the farm. She doesn’t have anything else to do with this since your fight is with me.”

“No, my ‘fight’ is with your entire fucking empire,” Huntington snapped. “And you know exactly what I want. Did you think I would settle for a measly fucking farm when I want an empire? I took it for leverage, Black. You were getting played on top of that building, and you didn’t even know it!”

By the time he was finished, his voice had risen at least an octave in his excitement, like the possibility of outsmarting me was better than any deal he actually accomplished.

“What if I could get it back for you?” I said. “The Ventnor deal. You and my brother can finish what you started. Build your suburban wasteland out here if that’s what you want. Just let them free, and I’ll draw up the paperwork today. I promise. It will be the start of your own empire. One you built instead of one you stole.”

Unfortunately, my idea didn’t fly.

“Myfatherdisowned me entirely because of you, once he discovered the properties you sold me were useless.” Huntington sounded more like a spoiled brat than a grown man. “‘Patchwork garbage,’ he called it. Now, I’m stuck doing business out of a shithole building in fucking Woonsocket, and you get to dump everything I’ve worked for over the last fiveyears? I don’t fucking think so!”

As he spoke, it became clear that nothing I could offer was ever going to be enough. Ezra Huntington wasn’t looking to build his own accomplishments; he wanted his daddy’s approval. Which, in his mind, was only going to happen in one way. Destruction. Or revenge.