Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

As much as I want to think it could possibly be Lachlan, I already know it’s not. How? Because he wouldn’t freaking knock.

It’s not even quite noon, and I’ve already worn down my capacity for patience for the day, which means any distraction is a good one. I head into the living area to open the door and find V there with lunch.

“Come on in.” As he steps around me to bring the tray inside, I close the door behind him. “Do you know where he is? Can you tell me anything?”

V sets the tray on the same table I’ve been eating at for days, and turns to face me. His expression is as unreadable as ever.

“Can you at least tell me he’s okay? Because if I find out he’s not and you all kept it from me, there will be hell to pay.” I’m gesticulating wildly, like that will somehow entice him to reply.

He grunts.

“What does that mean?” My tone takes on a shrill edge, showing just how close I am to the edge and coming completely unraveled.

V points at the covered tray of food.

“I couldn’t give a shit less about food right now, V. Just tell me—is he okay?”

He nods.

“Then where the hell is he? Is it over? I need to know something.”

To this, he gives no response, sending my frustration soaring to record heights.

V begins to back away toward the door, but I stop him.

“Don’t leave. Not yet. I’m going out of my mind here. Can you just sit and wait with me?”

His eyes narrow on mine, but he comes back toward the table and gestures at the food again.

“You sit. I’ll eat. Okay?”

He nods and sits, removing the lid before pushing the tray in front of me.

My hand shakes as I grip the fork, but I barely taste the food as I shovel it down my throat.

We repeat the same process at dinner several hours later.

Still, no Lachlan Mount.

Where the hell is he?





Mount





Drained, I step into the bathroom connected to my office and strip off my jacket, dropping it on the floor. I glance at my hands, then turn on the tap and wait until the water hits scalding before I scrub them with soap.

No matter how many times I wash my hands, I still see the blood on them. Yet I feel no remorse.

I do what’s necessary.

Fear. Intimidation. Respect.

That’s how I rule my empire. That’s how I protect my people. After the retribution we exacted over the last several days, no one will question my authority again, and only someone with a death wish would dare spill a drop of Keira’s blood.

All the loose ends are finally tied up. A deal has been struck. And now life moves on.

Steam clouds the mirror as I turn off the water and grab a towel. Once my hands are dried, I use it to wipe away the haze on the glass.

I rarely look at my reflection. I don’t need to see the devil staring back at me. But this time, I see something more, and it’s not just the blood spray on what used to be my snowy-white shirt. No, it’s a man with purpose. A man willing to make the streets run red if it means protecting what matters most.

Before her, I had every material possession, but still nothing to lose.

Now, there’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep her safe. Purpose. That’s what separates a strength from a weakness.

Keira said motivations make all the difference in the world. Maybe she’s right. I’ll never look into this mirror and see someone noble and honorable, but if that’s the man she sees when she looks at me, I can live with that—as long as I get to keep her.

I strip off my remaining clothes and step into the shower, scrubbing every inch of me until I’m certain that not a drop of blood remains. At least, on the surface.

I’ll always be brutal. Ruthless. Fierce in protecting what’s mine.

She doesn’t need to see that part of me. Ever. But I can give her the part of me no one else has ever had, and hope that it’s enough.



When I slip into the closet through the hidden passageway, I’m silent as always. A glow comes from the bedroom, but everything else is dark.

My footsteps don’t make a sound as I head toward the light.

Toward her.

She’s asleep in the middle of the bed, her red hair up in a messy bun and her hand clenched around her phone, as though waiting for it to ring.

I should have called. Should have told her I was okay. But I’m still new at this.

I hope there’s not a next time, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that. There will always be a next time. Another threat. Another person who needs killing.

But staring at the woman in my bed, I realize that I don’t need to be the one exacting justice myself.

I need to be here. With her. Making sure she doesn’t fall asleep alone, with dark circles under her eyes.

Everything in me wants to wake her, or at the very least, crawl into bed beside her. Instead, I take a chair in the shadows and watch over her while she sleeps.

My privilege and my penance.





Keira





When I jolt awake, it’s from a terrible dream. One where Lachlan never comes home to me because his blood drained down a gutter and his body disappeared, never to be found again. A nightmare.

“No,” I whisper. “No. He has to come home.” I wrap my arms around myself and squeeze.

“I am home.”

I jerk my head in the direction of the deep voice, elated that the man I’ve been waiting days to see is seated on a chair in the corner. “Thank God. I thought you were dead.”

I jump out of bed and rush toward him as he stands. In the dim light, I can see his face is set in harsh lines. Mount. Not Lachlan.

“I’m not dead.”

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” I stumble to a halt in front of him, taking in the pristine suit. What I really want to do is run my hands over every inch of his body to check for myself.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

I use that as an excuse to fling myself the remaining few inches between us, and his arms wrap around me and hold me tight to his chest. He doesn’t wince, so I hope that means not only is the gunshot wound healing, but he truly hasn’t sustained any new injuries.

“I was so goddamned worried about you. Next time, I need a call, or a text, or the freaking bat signal. Anything. V grunting and nodding isn’t going to cut it. I need proof you’re safe.”

One big hand cups the back of my head.

“Bat signal?”

I breathe in his familiar scent, reveling in it and not caring that I sound like I’m crazy. “You’re basically Batman, so yeah, a bat signal could be appropriate.”

His chest shakes and I think he’s laughing at me, but I’m not about to move to check.

“You know that’s not how the bat signal works, right?”

“Don’t argue with me, Lachlan. That’s almost as bad as leaving your wife alone on your wedding night and not sending word that you weren’t dead.”

His lips press against my temple. “This is my first time as a husband. I’m pretty sure I’ll f*ck it up a lot.”

Narrowing my eyes, I look up at him. “Rule number one—let your wife know you’re alive, especially after you’re done exacting vengeance.”

Wife. I still can’t believe I bear the title again, but it’s true. I said the vows, and I meant them.