Page 87 of Lawless Rivals

“How dare you try to sneak away, Harrington,” he says. “This is far from over.”

I glare back at him, furious and hurt.

“Fine.” My throat works against his palm. “Force me to stay. But don’t think for one second I’ll continue to stay in your cabin so you can fuck me again. Because you’re wrong, Saint. This is well and truly over.”

“You slept with her?” Rafe shouts from the ground as he ropes a man’s ankles. “Jesus fucking Christ, Saint…”

Darkness passes behind his eyes, and my scalp prickles; the look he gives me is dangerously close to fury.

“Get these fuckers out of here,” he says, voice rough and firm. “Pile up the wounded and drop them off at Harrington’s gates.”

Saint releases my neck, takes one step back, and holsters his gun. “Well then, Harrington, looks like ya picked the hard way.”

“What does that mean?”

He thumbs his bottom lip in one slow sweep that has my skin tingling.

“You tried to leave my land,” he announces, his voice gravel-like, “while I was gone.”

His brothers move in the background, close enough that nothing between us goes unheard.

“And now you’re standing here telling me what you will and won’t do?”

When he chuckles, it sends a flare of anger through me.

“You’ll stay exactly where I put ya.”

“And where will that be?”

My stomach drops when Rafe suggests tying me up and locking me in the back of a trailer, left out in the far fields.

Saint’s gaze hardens, a coldness settling in. “Shay, chain the gates when ya get back. I’ve got something to take care of tonight.”

Chapter 23

Saint

I’ve made a mistake.

Shay has Riley moving before I finish the order. Engines idle, voices strain, and the yard empties of Harrington’s mess as a well-run cleanup operation should.

Rafe catches my eye. I nod once, and he jumps into an SUV with injured men in the back seat.

Sera stays at the edge of it all, rifle in the crook of her arm, watching me with an expression she reserves for situations she’s already assessed and doesn’t like.

“Harrington knows she’s here now,” she says. “What’s the play?”

“We wait.”

She doesn’t look satisfied with that answer but rather than argue, she turns on her heels and walks off.

Which leaves Keira, still standing her ground in the middle of the yard with the floodlight at her back, watching me as the whites of her eyes catch the light.

I know she’s assessing which version of me she’s facing. That’s a habit I need to break.

She takes a step toward me. “Let me go⁠—”

“You were gonna leave my land without permission, Harrington.”