Page 17 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

"Let her go." My voice comes out wrong. Feral. Nothing like the controlled operative who entered this room.

He squeezes tighter. Vanessa makes a choked sound that ignites something murderous in my chest.

I drive my elbow into his temple. Once. Twice. His grip loosens enough for Vanessa to twist away. She stumbles toward the kitchen island, gasping.

The man swings wild. I duck under his punch, grab his throat with both hands. Squeeze. His eyes bulge as I lift him off the ground, tendons standing out in my forearms.

"You touched her." Each word comes out between his strangled attempts to breathe.

I slam him against the concrete wall. His head bounces off the surface with a wet crack. Blood spatters the gray surface. Not enough. I pull him forward and slam him again. Harder.

"Frost." Vanessa's voice sounds far away.

Another slam. The back of his skull caves slightly. Blood runs down the wall in crimson streams. His struggles grow weaker. Still not enough.

I drop him to the floor and mount his chest. My fists find his face. Right cross. Left hook. Right cross. Each impact sends blood spraying across my knuckles. Across my face. His nose flattens with a wet crunch. Orbital bone gives way under my knuckles.

Time loses meaning. There's only the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the splash of blood, the satisfying give of bone beneath my hands.

"Frost!" Louder now. Desperate.

I pull back for another strike. The man beneath me isn't moving anymore. His face is unrecognizable pulp. Blood pools around his shattered skull.

"Asher, he's dead! He's dead!"

Vanessa's voice finally penetrates the red haze. I look down at my hands. Knuckles split and bleeding. Covered in gore that isn't mine. The metallic taste of blood coats my tongue—must have bitten my lip.

I'm straddling a corpse. Breathing hard like I just ran miles. Chest heaving with exertion and leftover fury.

Heavy boots thunder up the stairwell. Kade's arrival.

I force myself to stand on unsteady legs. Vanessa stares at me from behind the island, eyes wide. Not with fear—with something darker. Something that sets fire to my veins after what just went down.

Kade appears in the doorway, weapon raised, then stops. Takes in the scene—two bodies with clean bullet holes, one with his head caved in, and me covered in blood.

"Jesus, Frost." He lowers his gun. "What happened to controlled shots?"

"Three down," I announce, my voice rougher than usual, breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my system.

"Jesus Christ," Vanessa breathes from behind the column, staring at me with wide eyes.

"You just... you're so..." She swallows hard, unable to finish. Something about the way she's looking at me heats my blood.

"Frost, fourth man neutralized in the alley," Cole's voice reports through my earpiece. "Clean shots."

"Copy. Exfil in progress."

Kade nods, moving to secure our exit route. "Thirty seconds to clear the building."

I grab Vanessa's hand, pulling her toward the fire escape while she clutches her bag. "Time to move, bunny."

I test the fire escape platform before helping her through, metal groaning under our weight. Each step down sends vibrations through the structure while we descend rapidly.

"This thing sounds ready to collapse," she warns, but keeps pace.

"I'll manage." Below, my pristine white Ducati waits beside large green dumpsters with black lids, the industrial containers that serve entire apartment buildings.

"Blood on your face," Vanessa observes when we reach the bottom landing, studying my features with that same hungry intensity.

"Leave it."

"Serial killer chic isn't my favorite look on you." She reaches up without warning.

I catch her wrist before she makes contact, pulse hammering under my fingertips. "Don't."

"Fine. Terrify innocent bystanders." But her breathing picks up, and something dark flickers in her eyes when I don't immediately release her.

"Better than crying," I point out, finally letting go.

"This isn't my first rodeo with dangerous people." She glances back up at her loft windows. "But those names, those faces... Maya and I spent months tracking them."

Her eyes find mine, something unreadable passing through them. Trust mixed with desire. "Thank you. For..." She gestures vaguely at the building.

"Don't thank me yet. Still exposed."

I reach for my phone, fingers steady despite the adrenaline. Blood stains my knuckles as I scroll to Reaper's contact. The copper taste of violence lingers in my mouth.

He answers immediately. "Reaper. Need a cleanup. Vanessa Reyes's place. Fourth floor, Unit 4C. Full disaster. Everything disappears. Tonight."

"Copy," comes his gravelly response.

I lead her to my motorcycle, the white Ducati looking out of place between the industrial waste containers. Grabbing my helmet from the seat, I toss it to her.

Our fingers brush during the exchange. Another shock races up my arm, completely inappropriate for our current situation. Her sharp intake of breath suggests she felt it, too.

"Where are we going?" she asks, clutching the helmet against her chest while studying my face.

I swing my leg over the bike, engine roaring to life beneath me. The vibration grounds me, pulling me back from whatever edge I crossed upstairs. But Vanessa's scent, her closeness, the way she looked at me while I killed those men—it's doing things to my control.

"Get on," I growl, voice rougher than usual. Something possessive crawls through my chest as her eyes widen slightly. "Hold tight."

Vanessa hesitates for just a moment before sliding the helmet over her head. She climbs behind me, thighs pressing against mine as her arms encircle my waist. The trust implicit in that gesture does something dangerous to my restraint.

"Tighter," I command, grabbing her wrists and pulling her closer until her chest presses against my back, soft curves molding against my frame.

Her body fits perfectly against mine, every point of contact sending heat through my system. Her arms tighten around my ribs, and the way she's holding me, trusting me completely after what she just witnessed...

The Ducati lurches forward as I throttle out of the alley. Time to move before I do something I'll regret.