Page 14

14

LOCHLAN

I step into the office already irritated as hell. Draco’s side hustle is getting reckless, and I'm the one left cleaning up his mess. It's not like we haven't smuggled drugs before, but fentanyl isn't some amateur shit you can casually throw into the mix and hope nobody notices. We run it hidden in plain sight, carefully packed alongside our legitimate prescription shipments—it's intentional, efficient, but dangerous as fuck.

Lately, though, the runners Draco's brought in are sloppy, greedy bastards who couldn't keep their mouths shut if their lives depended on it. And that puts all our necks on the line.

I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension as I scan the office. Evie isn't at her desk, and something in my chest tightens immediately. She should've been here by now. I glance at Jasper, hunched over his computer like I imagine is normal for him, and he doesn't seem bothered by it. He's reckless.

"You seen Evie?" My tone is sharper than I intend, betraying the nerves beneath.

He lifts his head slowly, blinking like I interrupted something important. "Nope," he says, leaning back lazily in his chair.

My jaw tightens. Jasper’s attitude grates at my nerves, but I'm not his boss, nor am I his father. "You haven't noticed anything at all? She didn't say she was stepping out?"

"Sorry," he says dryly. "I was stuck on a call. Wasn't paying attention."

I bite back a curse and turn away, frustration gnawing at the back of my mind. Evie shouldn’t just disappear without a word—not after everything that's been happening lately. The union attacks, threats coming in from every direction—it’s too damn dangerous. I rub the back of my neck to disguise the worst of my frustration and turn.

Scowling, I cross the room, approaching two of our other guys standing near the coffee station, whispering like gossipy teenagers. Their conversation dies immediately when they see me coming. Clearly, they take my position here more seriously than Jasper.

"Where’s Evie?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, though tension coils tighter in my chest with every passing second.

The taller one, Greg, glances sideways at his buddy before answering. "Uh, saw her earlier slipping out. She looked like she didn’t want to be seen."

"Sneaking out?" I growl, irritation morphing quickly into anger. "Alone?"

Greg shrugs nervously. "Seen some guy out by the lot the other day, but this time I'm not sure."

"Some guy?" I ask, wondering if it’s the same slick twat I saw messing around the other day.

"Yeah, Suit, fancy car. Looked like trouble." Greg jerks his chin up and lifts his coffee mug to sip from it.

My pulse spikes instantly, fury seeping into my veins. Evie meeting with some stranger behind my back? I’d told her explicitly—I don’t share. This isn’t how things are supposed to work between us. A wave of protectiveness overtakes my anger, bringing with it old, buried fears. Memories of an explosion flash through my mind, a phantom heat on my skin. Maelyn's face is burned in my conscience.

I turn sharply, striding toward the stairs. My boots slam against each step, panic mingling with rage as I take the more active route instead of the elevator, fury building until my thoughts blur. By the time I hit the lobby, my hand is already reaching for my phone. I call her without thinking twice the very instant I see her car is missing.

She answers after two rings, her voice cautious, hesitant. "Lochlan?"

"Where the hell are you?" My words snap like gunfire, edged with barely controlled emotion.

She hesitates, and my blood runs cold at noise in the background of wherever she's at.

"I'm at home." I hear the irritation in her voice, but it doesn't register until after I've spoken again.

"Who the fuck are you with, Evie?" I interrupt sharply, unable to keep the betrayal from creeping into my tone. "You can't disappear and expect me not to notice. Not with everything going on."

"You wouldn't understand," she says with a shaky voice, distant.

The words send a jolt of anger straight through me. "The hell I wouldn't," I bite out, each syllable cutting deeper. "You’re being reckless. I'm trying to protect you—damn it, Evie."

"I came home because I'm sick, alright? Don't be an ass," she blurts out before ending the call.

In my anger, I think of calling her back. I pinch the bridge of my nose and growl loudly, then slam my fist against the brick exterior of the building. Between feeling betrayed and fearing that somehow, Doyle had gotten to her, my fight or flight is ready to kill someone. The reaction comes so fast and so sudden, now I can't stop it. My hands turn to fists and my blood boils.

I'd like to go by and check on her, but if she's really at home on O'Leary property, she's safe. Besides, she won't like the fact that I hover around her. She'd tell me she doesn’t need a sitter, and she'd be right.

I turn to head back into the office, and something across the street piques my curiosity. A long, black sedan is parked there, a man leaning on it. I narrow my eyes and shield them from the sunlight reflecting off the windshield and recognize the man's face. Cormac Doyle stands with his arms crossed, staring at me.

My pulse immediately spikes, hostility pumping hot through my veins. Doyle’s presence here isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be. He’s always got an agenda, always making his moves three steps ahead.

I cross the street without hesitation, locked onto him like a missile, weaving between cars whose horns blare at me. Doyle doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink, just keeps watching with that coldly amused smirk on his face as I close the distance between us.

"What the hell are you doing here, Doyle?" My voice comes out in a growl, lower and rougher than I intend.

Cormac chuckles lightly, pushing off the sedan and straightening his jacket sleeves with calculated ease. "Enjoying the view, Lochlan. You seem a bit wound up."

"Don’t fuck with me," I snap, stepping closer until barely a foot of space separates us. "Your threats don’t impress anyone. Back off, or you’ll regret it."

His dark eyes glitter sharply, something dangerous flickering beneath the polished veneer. "Threats? I don’t make threats. You should know me better by now. When I say something, I mean every word of it."

Anger twists in my chest. Cold fear lurks just behind it. I fight to keep control of myself, knowing the street cameras are catching every move we make, every word we speak. He knows it too, the bastard. Doyle is playing me, waiting for me to slip up so he can make his next move.

"I warned you once already," I say, keeping my voice carefully even, though fury simmers just beneath the surface. "Keep pushing, and you'll find out exactly how serious I can be."

Cormac’s smirk widens, cruel amusement playing openly across his face. "You and your boys seem nervous lately. Problems with your shipments? You know what happens to syndicates that get sloppy."

My fists clench at my sides, the muscles along my jaw tightening painfully. I hold myself back, though every fiber of my being screams at me to tear the smug look off his face. He’s provoking me, baiting me into doing something reckless—something that could blow up the fragile balance of power we've been holding onto.

"You talk a big game, but you're all bark," I spit out. "Step over the line, and I’ll show you how quickly things get messy."

Doyle leans forward slightly, lowering his voice, eyes hard and unforgiving. "Careful, Lochlan. It would be a shame if someone you cared about got hurt because you couldn’t keep things under control. You’ve got enough blood on your hands already."

My vision tunnels, blood pounding deafeningly in my ears. Evie’s face flashes through my mind, and every protective instinct inside me surges with violence. Doyle sees the reaction instantly. His eyes glint with satisfaction, the trap sprung exactly as he intended.

My fists tighten, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. "You don’t want this fight, Doyle. Trust me on that."

He laughs softly, stepping backward and pulling open the car door. "I’m counting on it. We’ll talk again soon."

He slides inside smoothly, shutting the door and leaving me standing in boiling rage. As the sedan pulls away, the restraint keeping me in check snaps, and I drive my fist into the side of the car as it passes, the pain in my knuckles nothing compared to the fury burning in my chest.

Cormac Doyle’s car disappears around the corner, and I’m left on the sidewalk, my hand bloody, adrenaline pumping viciously through every nerve. Doyle has made his point clearly enough—he’s coming, and everyone around me, especially Evie, is at risk.

The game just changed. And now, it’s personal.