Ruthless Knights (The Dark Elite 2)

As the elevator starts to rise, the careful control I’ve been holding on to slips. Fear grips me for a heart-wrenching second, and I can’t stop myself as I reach for Grace, needing to feel her in my arms, needing to know that she’s safe and real and alive. Her heart thuds against my chest and as she clings to me with a quiet noise, like I’m her salvation.

Fuck, I wish that were true.

So why do I get the feeling I’m dragging her down to hell with me?

“Look at me,” I murmur softly. My hands come up to trace the lines of her neck, her chin, brushing her hair back as she lifts her head to meet my gaze. “Are you okay?”

Her arms tighten around my body, fingers entwining behind my back and gripping me closer, as if I’m her anchor and she’s not going to let go. Jesus, I hope she never does. It’s madness being with her, another storm within the already raging tempest of my life.

But I want her.

More than anything, I want to be her anchor. Not just when she’s reeling from a death threat, but always.

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice trembling only a little. Her hazel eyes shimmer, but her jaw is set resolutely. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? I’m still here.”

I can see it in her eyes that she’s trying to pull it together, trying to keep herself from breaking, and pride fills me. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to stay as calm as she is under this much stress, and she’s fucking strong.

Stronger than me. Stronger than any of us.

“That’s my girl,” I say, voice dropping and growing rougher.

Her breath catches at my words, and for once, I don’t fucking question the feelings churning between us. I don’t stop myself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips, palming the back of her head. Her fingers flex against my back with the contact as she rises up to meet me and kisses me back, melting against me.

I force myself to pull away just before the elevator door opens, heart thudding in my chest. Grace steps out of my arms and away from me, and I lead the way down the familiar corridor to my father’s office.

He looks up as we step inside, his expression sharp and alert. A threat against Grace may not concern him the same way it does me, but since she’s under the protection of the Novak Syndicate, any move against her is an attack on all of us. He’ll take this seriously.

Thank fuck.

“Hale. Grace. Come in.”

He gestures for us to enter, and I usher Grace across the room. She sits in the same chair as last time, her face impassive and her expression blank.

My girl. My brave fucking girl.

Another surge of pride fills my chest, but I focus on business.

“The dog was dead by the time I got there,” I explain, not sitting down. My father already knows the basics, but I fill him in on the rest. “Zaid, Lucas, and Ciro are bringing it in. We can run forensics, but it was in bad shape. I doubt we’ll find anything. We do know for certain it was a threat aimed at Grace.”

I pull a small, clear plastic bag out of my pocket and slam it down on the desk. The gesture is more forceful than I mean for it to be, but my self-control is fraying. Just seeing the engraved letters in the small metal disc makes my blood boil.

My father looks at the dog tag that reads Grace with narrowed eyes, but his face stays impassive.

“We scoped the property and surrounding area as well,” I add. “Nothing.”

For a long moment, my father just stares at the bloodstained dog tag in the plastic bag. Then he finally looks up at me. “I’d like to speak with Grace. Alone.”

I can feel Grace stiffen by my side. We’re not even physically touching, but I’m so aware of her that I can sense the change in her posture, hear the slight hitch in her breath.

My own breath stills in my lungs. I’ve never disobeyed a direct order from my father, but I’m seriously considering doing it right now. I trust this man and respect him, but when it comes to Grace, trust only goes so far.

A soft hand reaches for mine, wrapping around my fingers. The heavy thud of my heart slows as Grace looks up at me.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmurs.

I glance back at my father, my hand still gripping Grace’s tightly. He holds my gaze, not glancing down at our joined hands, but I know h

e’s aware of the gesture.