Page 175 of The Devil We Crave
A ripple of dark malevolence flickers in his eyes.
“Can I, Achilles? Can I trust you with my daughter?”
“You can,” I hiss.
Nero’s quiet for a second, studying me like he’s looking for a weakness.
“Let’s hope you’re right,” he growls. “Because if you’re not, I’ll wear your fucking skin, and that is not hyperbole.”
Zero part of me thinks it is.
“Duly noted,” I murmur.
Nero leans forward in his chair. “Okay,nowis the part where I threaten you. If you ever so much asinconveniencemy daughter, God himself willweepat the unholy mess I make of you. Am I painting a clear enough picture?”
“Vividly.”
He smiles. “Excellent.” His broad, maniacal smile doesn't change as his eyes darken. “My little girl is my world, Achilles. Fuck with her, and I will burnyourworld to the ground and salt the ashes.”
Nero clears his throat and leans back in his chair.
“Now, on a lighter note…” He arches a brow. “It would appear, despite the Santoro family pretending otherwise, that Kyle ismissing in action. He’s not at his parents’ house, nor at his condo in Hawthorne Hollow. His fund is in free-fall, and it doesn’t appear that anyone is at the wheel.” He eyes me cooly. “Dare I hope that you have something to do with this situation?”
Idon’t, actually, but not for lack of trying.
Part of me understands that making Yelena's trauma my own battle, and making what happened to her about my own need for vengeance, is fucking wrong.
Being offended that someone hurt Yelena isn't being her hero. That’s just me being another man deciding her pain and experiences belong to him.
But that's thecivilizedversion of this, and ofme.
The inky black devil part of me has aconsiderablyless noble opinion.
Kyle Santoro put his hands on what'smine.He hurt someone whobelongsto me. And I will burn everything in his world to cinders before I let him breathe the same air as her ever again.
Maybe that’s a self-serving righteousness. But it's who I am, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
“Not yet,” I grit through clenched teeth. “But I’ve got feelers out, and Iwillfind him.”
Nero studies me another few moments longer, his piercing green eyes so like his daughter's, peeling back the layers of me, as if to see my inner workings.
Finally he sits back and takes a slow, measured breath.
“You want to win me over, Achilles?” His jaw tightens. “You find that fucking maggot and make himwrithe. I want him to suffer so much that he begs for hell.”
Well, now.
I think I’m going to get along with Yelena’s father just fine.
I lean across the table. “One question… Would you like atrophy?”
A diabolical grin spreads across Nero’s face. “It pains me to say this to the little fucker who’s been putting his hands on my daughter,” he growls. “But I might like you already, Achilles.”
36
YELENA
Life isgood.
