Page 34 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)

Dallas

Shortly after requesting it, Dustin emailed the video file from the camera that had recorded Bria’s test. He even took the time to compliment how impressive my sweet girl’s performance was, not displaying a hint of indecision in her bold actions.

I waited until she’d left for Phoenix to view the video.

While I had the utmost faith in my wife, I still begged the question of how she handled it without so much as needing my help. Rarely did any of the wives complete their tests independently, always needing the extra encouragement or assistance to make the kill itself.

I sat behind my desk at Isla, finishing the last of my in-house work before pulling up Dustin’s email and downloading the file for viewing. I don’t know why I started feeling anxious as the progression bar increased, but my heart raced even faster the closer it approached completion .

Once the file was ready, I braced myself before pressing play, unsure of what to expect—if it would be nothing of concern or something much more.

As I studied the recording closely, I watched Bria enter the room, followed closely by her target, Leroy . I could hear everything that was said between them, even though I remember listening to it first hand through the earpiece as if it were yesterday.

Hearing his fucking voice and the way he spoke to her had my blood boiling. I wanted to kill the motherfucker all over again—slowly, painfully—as I saw him skulk toward my wife, backing her against the headboard of the bed with nowhere to run.

Before we left for Stardust, I briefed Bria on the layout of the illusion suite—where most of the weapons were located, and how to access them if she found herself in need. There were various types available, everything from a simple butcher’s knife to a standard handgun—already loaded, of course.

I did everything I could to prepare her for this test just like my father did for me, and yet here I fucking was, questioning the how.

How was it so fucking easy for her to take Leroy down on her own?

Why did she feel no remorse for what she had done after the fact?

Almost every woman who was tested broke down within days of completing it, feeling the guilt weighing heavily on them as they came to terms with what they had just done.

It would take at least one or two more tasks to get them used to the work we performed and understand that what they were doing wasn’t unjustified .

They were serving the same purpose as their husbands. Knowledge of their targets' crimes usually softened the blow—eased the mind. But not everyone was strong enough to stomach murder.

It took a special kind of fucked up individual to take a life and show no remorse on their first encounter—someone born into it.

Noticing a sudden change in her demeanor, I stopped the video and rewound it a few seconds to the moment right before she launched herself at Leroy—the look on her face causing me to arch a brow in curiosity.

Bria wasn’t terrified of being backed into a corner, the large man looming over her, most likely eye fucking her with every vile thought displayed clearly on his fucking face.

She knew he was dangerous and that he had every sick, fucked up intention of harming her, strictly for his pleasure only.

And yet, no matter how many times I replayed that thirty-second snippet, the look she gave him was unmistakable—she smirked.

Seconds before launching herself to drive the knife directly into his neck.

She fucking smirked.

I knew she would be arriving home late, so I planned a romantic candlelit dinner in the sunroom, setting it up so that we could eat under the stars .

I still had questions for her, several after reviewing the footage of her test, but the longer I considered bringing them up, the less they seemed to matter.

Unless she had committed a crime against the MUR itself, who the fuck cared?

My wife was a badass who knew how to kill; that alone was more than anything I could ask for. She didn’t owe me shit.

Just as I had finished putting the finishing touches on the table, I heard the front door lock click, turning my attention across the living room and to the foyer where I saw my sweet girl’s ass backing itself into our home.

“You should enter rooms like that more often. I love a good view of that perky tight ass.” And one of these days I had every intention of fucking it, in more ways than one.

“Honestly, Dallas, is that all you see when you look at me?” Bria mocked, closing the door and parking her suitcase against the wall before she bolted for me, with a bubbly laugh.

She leaped into my arms, and I caught her, holding her body tightly against mine as she wrapped her legs around my waist like a fucking spider monkey.

“I missed you. Immensely.” She breathed, nuzzling her face into the side of my neck and inhaling deeply, her body relaxing further into me.

I had started loving moments like this, where I could just hold her in complete silence, cherishing the woman that I would give my life for without so much as batting an eye.

I didn’t need to respond with the same sentiment—that I had missed her.

She already knew it. I could feel it with how tightly she held on to me.

When she didn’t let up, I carried her over to the couch, where I sat down with her now straddling my lap. I ran my hands up the sides of her neck, directing her face to mine and staring intensely into her beautiful, bright eyes.

Everything about her seemed lighter than before. As if she had found closure in whatever had been gnawing at her before this last trip. My sweet girl looked entirely unburdened—effervescent, even.

“That look… always with that look.” Bria smiled, pinching the corner of her lip with her teeth as she stared back, allowing me to pull her in even further.

If only she could feel how my heart beats for her—the rush I get when she enters the room, and how my stomach flutters every time our gazes connect.

I was fucking in love.

Off the deep end, with no path of return, no way out, in-fucking-love .

“I made dinner. You hungry?” I asked, unable to tear my gaze from hers, feeling thoroughly entranced by her eyes without a care in the world.

Our dinner was probably about to burn to a crisp in the oven, but even that seemed like a problem for another day.

Appliances were replaceable, even this entire home—but her?

My woman.

My wife.

My sweet fucking girl.

There wasn’t a single soul on this damn earth that could replace her.

“Starving, actually. I didn’t stop on my entire drive home. I wanted to get back to you as soon as I could.” Breaking away from our moment, Bria’s eyes flicked over to where I had set up our table, the candles flickering in the dark. “Did you do all this? Just for me?”

“Mhm…” I nodded in answer, running a hand through her bright red hair.

“Now this-this was the welcome home I had expected the first time.” Her eyes reconnected with mine before she leaned down and kissed my lips tenderly. “No broken furniture… no raging emotions… This .”

Fuck the answers…

I didn’t need them.