Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

That voice. Deep. Dark. Rough. It was the voice of the devil, but not anymore. Now it’s the voice of the man I was furious I wasn’t going to be allowed to keep after we returned to New Orleans.

My eyelids flicker open, and I feel like there’s a dent where my skull smacked the window as we hurtled around the corner and plowed through a lamppost. A headache pounds relentlessly in my temple. When I meet the familiar dark gaze, his dread morphs into relief. The burning heat in those eyes used to send tremors of fear shuddering through me, but now it gives me strength.

“Thank f*cking Christ.” His forehead touches mine lightly, and I breathe in his woodsy citrus scent.

“You think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?” My words come out weak and slurred, with none of the confidence I intended. I try to sit up, but pain stabs into my right side. “Dammit, that hurts. What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be fine. I swear to you on my life that you will be fine.”

The way he says it, with absolute conviction underlying every word, I believe him.

I drop my gaze from his and take in the blood covering my shirt and the shards of glass everywhere. “Oh shit.”

His big hand grips my chin and brings my attention back up to his eyes, but not before I see the red staining his clothes as well.

“Oh God. We need help.”

“We’re going to be fine. Understand me? You need to hold it together. Can you do that?”

I nod as my skull threatens to crack from the thumping. Bile rises in my throat.

“Block out the pain, Keira. You can do it.”

I take a shallow breath and shudder. “I can do it,” I say, no clue if I’m lying or not.

“Good girl.” He rips off his suit jacket and presses it against my side. “Hold this tight, like your f*cking life depends on it. You got me?”

When Lachlan Mount says to do something like your life depends on it, it actually might. I remember the dread I saw in his eyes only moments before.

“Am I dying?” Instead of sadness, anger rushes in. I’m not ready. I’m not done with this world. I’m not done with this man.

“You are not f*cking dying. I won’t allow it.” His words are backed by steely determination and raw tenacity.

“Okay.” I press the jacket tighter against the source of the pain in my right side as he slides an arm around my back.

“We’re getting the f*ck out of here. My people are on their way. Hold tight.”

I give him another nod, stars bursting in my vision with every movement as Lachlan lifts me out of the car, staying low and rounding the rear of it to pause between the crumpled front end and the building it crashed into. He stumbles with a grunt, and the sound of his suffering spears into me worse than my own.

“Stop. You’re hurt. Don’t—”

“Not until you’re safe. Not taking any f*cking chances with you. Where the hell are they?” His head swivels from side to side as my vision threatens to go dark again.

What’s wrong with my head?

I force the fuzziness down because there’s no way I’m passing out again. I’m stronger than that.

I squeeze his hand in an effort to get his attention. “I’m not losing you either. Do you understand me? Stop being such a stubborn bastard.”

His gaze drops to me, and any evidence of the pain he felt a moment ago seems to vanish as one corner of his mouth quirks up. “Deal.”

Tires screech and I turn my head, wincing as agony shoots through my temples. Only I can’t see anything because Lachlan angles us away from the street, gripping me tighter and turning his back to the oncoming car. Using himself as a human shield.

“Don’t you dare—”

“Shut up, Keira. When it comes to you, I’ll do whatever I have to.” His big hand cups the back of my head and presses it against his chest.

Another car screeches to a halt, and the sound of doors opening penetrates my pounding head. Footsteps thump against the pavement as Lachlan turns his head.

“Thank f*ck,” he whispers, his body relaxing as he swivels around and I catch sight of Scar.

Another face that used to inspire fear now only brings relief. Scar bolts toward us, as silent as always, but fierce rage is stamped on his every feature.

Lachlan clasps me tighter against his chest. “Take her. Lock her down. Your life for hers. Understand me?”

The silent man nods, and Lachlan loosens his grip on me. “Don’t you f*cking die on me, Keira. I swear I’ll rip down those pearly gates and come for you myself.”

Scar’s arms form a cradle around me, a hold I know all too well, but my fingers won’t release their grip on Lachlan’s collar. The fabric stretches as Scar steps away, tearing my grip free.

“I’m not leaving you!” I struggle in Scar’s arms, even though every moment makes my stomach roil and my body cry out for me to stop. “Put me down. I’m staying with him.”

Scar grunts in my ear, and my gaze fixes on the shirt Lachlan’s wearing. The left side is completely soaked through with red. At first, I think it’s mine, but the torn fabric and the steadily pumping flow tell me I’m wrong.

“Leave me! Save him! He needs you more.” Tears flow down my face as Scar holds me tighter, not letting my pathetic struggles deter him from taking me farther and farther away from Lachlan.

Two other men rush toward us, but I don’t know them.

“Kill them!” I scream, not recognizing my own voice. “Don’t you f*cking touch him, you bastards!”

Lachlan staggers and the men catch him, one on either side.

“Get her safe—” His voice cuts off as his body goes slack in the arms of the two strangers.

“No!” I scream, but Scar continues toward the car, not acknowledging what just happened. “Stop! You have to go back for him!”

I fight his grip on me, clawing at his shoulders, uncaring about the anguish tearing through my body. Horror drowns out the pain as they drag Lachlan’s limp body toward a car I don’t recognize, and Scar heads for the familiar one.

“Let me go!” I shout, but my voice breaks as he lowers me into the backseat and slams the door in the face of my protests.

I grope at the handle, desperate to stop the men from hauling Lachlan away, but Scar is already in the front seat. The doors lock before he slams the car in drive and speeds down a street in the French Quarter.

Weeks ago, I would have rejoiced at being driven in a speeding car in the opposite direction of Lachlan Mount, but that was before. What he said in the hangar was right. Everything has changed.

Tears pour down my face in rivers as I turn to look out the tinted back window. In the rapidly increasing distance, two men load Lachlan’s lifeless body into the backseat of the other sedan.

My voice goes hoarse as I scream at Scar to take me back, but we turn a corner and I lose sight of him.

“No!”





Keira





I don’t remember passing out, but when I wake up in a room dominated by white walls, an industrial gray floor, and the scent of antiseptic, I know I must have lost consciousness.

I jerk up in the hospital bed, my head swiveling from side to side. Bad move. The thumping gets worse, and so does my fuzzy vision.