Broken Reign: Enemies-To-Lovers Romance

The coast isn’t clear yet, so I stand perfectly still until I’m away from the watchful eyes of the camera in the corner. But once it’s stopping and I’m jetting out of the building, I pull out my phone. I dial Tobias, praying he answers. When he doesn’t, I swear my heart might explode from fear.

I try again, but nothing.

This is the moment I wish I had his sidekick’s number. Gideon. But I don’t. And I can’t even leave a message because his phone could be tapped. I don’t know what to do. A feeling I haven’t had in a long time clings to my skin.

Helplessness.

I’m utterly hopeless. And now I’m back in the storage closet. Bathed in darkness. Waiting for death. No.

I didn’t die then. And Tobias won’t die now. That’s when I start to run down the block, arm in the air, to hail a cab. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll go to him.

I just pray I’m not too late.

34

Tobias

“Any word from Felix? Did he receive the present?”

The present being his soldier’s head in a box . . . Courtesy of Gideon. I didn’t give two shits what we did with his body but seeing as Gideon wants to establish a name for himself once I’m out, I understand the move. It’s clear and decisive. You don’t fuck with me. And once I’m gone, you certainly don’t fuck with Gideon.

For the first year after this transition, Gideon will have to be extra lethal. That way, no one tries to steal the reins from him.

Now back in the office, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. We are preparing for Felix to get the package. It’s being sent as we speak. By tonight, we should be at war.

“It hasn’t been delivered yet.”

“What’s taking so long?” I ask.

“Not sure.”

“Find out.”

He nods and then pulls out his phone and fires off a text.

“Boss?”

Patrick walks into my office.

“Yeah.”

“Ms. Matthews is outside the building.”

“And?”

“Should we let her in?”

I had forgotten about Skye. I haven’t seen her since the day I left her. Knowing Skye, she’s probably pissed off.

Things are pretty crazy in here. My men are everywhere, preparing and sorting shit. It is not a good time for her.

“Show her in.” I’ll meet her in the lobby.

Walking down the stairs, I’m rounding the bend when she comes into focus. She sees me and runs toward me, and my men jump into action. Guns raised. Grabbing her.

“Let me go,” she hollers.

“Get your hands off her.” I step up. Chaz drops his hand but not his weapon. It’s still pointed at her.

I walk up to Skye. Her chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath, but that’s not the thing that has me worried. What has me worried is the way her hands are shaking and the way she rubs frantically at the inside of her wrist.

“Calm down, Skye.” I reach out, pull her hand away, and rub at her wrist. “Take a deep breath.” I hold her gaze steady. “Inhale. Now exhale.”

Her eyes go wide. She looks down at her wrist, and her face pales. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong, but then she’s snapping out of her trance, pulling away and facing off on me.

“You have to leave.”

“What?”

“You have to leave now. Everyone!” Her voice is loud, and it has me reaching out my arms and bracketing her shoulders with them to stop her from doing anything rash.

“You need to calm down and speak.”

Her chest rises and falls. “He’s coming,” she rasps out between pants.

“Who’s coming?”

“Felix,” she whispers.

“Speak. Now.” My fingers come to her chin, cradling it a moment before forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Speak, Skye.” The command comes out firm but soft. It gets the job done, because she leans into my touch, exhaling.

“We don’t have time. He’s coming. He’s going to hit the building.”

“This building is locked down. Guards are at every post.” Despite saying this, I turn to my men, signaling them to prepare. But it’s too late. Skye is screaming as a large Mack truck comes barreling up the street, over the sidewalk, and rams through the glass and into the lobby.

The sound of tires screeching and glass shattering is followed by an explosion that rocks the building.

Smoke descends upon us. Billowing until I can no longer see. From that moment, it’s anarchy.

We were hit.

Despite every precaution we took, they drove a Mack truck into my lobby.

Gunfire rings out. I should be fighting, but all I can think about is where’s Skye? I move through the smoke. My lungs burn. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

Some of my men are probably dead, but right now, I don’t care about that. I need to find her and get her out of here.

It’s hard to see anything. The visibility isn’t even a foot in any direction. I can’t hear, either; the blast took care of that. But I have to move anyway. I squint my eyes, hold my breath, and move in search of her.