Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
I shake my head, having absolutely no idea. “I … I don’t know,” I say, watching as they bear down on Roman, ready to tear him to shreds. “I thought they were loyal to you. They don’t even like me that much.”
Roman scoffs. “They don’t,” he says. “But they’re still wild animals. They’re loyal to no one but themselves. Something must have happened in the last twenty-four hours because when I left last night, they had no issue with me.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. I fed them your lunch and filled up their water bowls, but apart from that, I haven’t done anything.”
Roman sighs, his body relaxing just a little. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. “They’re going to protect the hand who feeds them, and seeing as though you gave them a gourmet fucking meal, they’re all about the Shayne show. Congratulations, you’ve stolen my wolves out from under me. Now call them off.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “What?” I shriek. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“Your wolves,” he says. “Your problem.”
I clench my jaw, his irritating attitude completely fucking with my mood. Hell, perhaps I should let them go, teach him a lesson or two, but unlike the boys, I don’t have that brutal nature inside me. Though, that doesn’t explain why I enjoyed that visit to their uncle’s property the other day.
Letting out a sigh, I snap at the wolves. “Oi, assholes,” I demand, my tone full of authority. They react immediately, their snarls halting as they glance back at me. “Cut the shit.” Without another word, they back off, releasing Roman from their hold before pressing out of here like they haven’t got a care in the world.
I gape after them in amazement. Do I really have my own pack?
“What the fuck just happened?” I murmur as the familiar sound of cars barreling down the driveway fill the room, instilling the kind of fear into my chest that only ever comes when Giovanni is about to pull some twisted shit.
“Fuck,” Marcus says, frustration washing over him. “The wolves are the least of our problems now. Guess Father has come to collect. Our week of freedom is officially over.”
16
The front door swings open and I watch with distaste as four armed guards storm into the foyer, their guns locked and loaded, acting like a bunch of over-privileged SWAT assholes. They circle the foyer, one of them always with their eyes on Giovanni’s three sons, who do their best to look bored of their performance.
“Don’t fucking move,” one of the guards says, moving directly in front of the three boys and holding his gun out at them as the others continue searching for threats. I scoff and lean back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. How ridiculous do these guys have to be to leave just one guard to watch over the three brothers? By the time he could get one shot off, the other two brothers would be bearing down on him, making him regret every decision he ever made.
It’s a joke, and Giovanni was a fool to approve this shit, unless he enjoys watching the way his sons so effortlessly take out his guards.
The three other guards return a moment later. “It’s clear,” they say into their tiny little radios resting on their shoulders, making me laugh. They really did go all out for this special occasion. Though, I guess their last encounter with Roman out in the driveway didn’t exactly go as planned. They need every advantage they could possibly get.
Not a moment later, Giovanni comes barging through the front door with another six guards and I roll my eyes as he steps into the foyer and instantly looks at his sons in disgust. “Sons,” he says, raising his chin as the guards fan out around him. “I assume seven days was a satisfactory time to complete your task. We’ll retire to the dining hall. I have some questions regarding your cousin, Antonio, and the other … things you’ve been up to during your week. Following that, you will show me to this motherfucker who’s been undercutting me and I will take it from there.”
Roman straightens, stepping forward to take point on this, and knowing all too well that he doesn’t have anybody to hand over, he plays along. “Of course. Let’s not waste any time.”
Roman turns on his heel and begins stalking toward the massive dining hall as the guards follow suit, not allowing him out of their sight for even a moment, but when Marcus and Levi don’t move a muscle, I find myself grinning. They’re too fucking sneaky, separating themselves and forcing the guards to break apart. It’s a clever move, one that they should have seen coming.
A guard comes face to face with Levi, a forced sense of authority poorly masking his fear. There’s a familiar glint of mischief in Levi’s eyes, like the excited look of a child on Christmas morning. “Move,” the guard spits, jamming his gun right into Levi’s stomach and staring him down. That look would have me dropping to my knees, but not Levi.