Panic was a cold serpent coiling in my gut. My mind, usually a fortress of tactical calm, was a
battlefield. The dual psychic pull from the two Alphas was a physical weight, a dizzying pressure
behind my eyes. Focus, Angelique. Focus on the mission. But the mission was a dying star,
collapsing under the gravity of this new reality.
Before I could force my limbs to move, the space beside me at the bar was occupied. I didn't hear
him approach. Marcus Thorne. He stared into the depths of his drink, the ice-grey eyes coolly
detached.
He spoke, his voice a low baritone, meant only for me. "An unscheduled variable in the market.
How fascinating." His words were calm, clinical, but beneath them was a current of possessive
interest. "DeLauro sees a prize to be won. It is the flaw in his business model. He always
mistakes volatility for value."
Before I could form a reply, the atmosphere behind me curdled. A wave of heat and raw,
untamed power washed over my back. Vincent DeLauro had descended from his throne. The
crowd parted for him as he stalked toward us, his blue eyes blazing. He didn't even grant Marcus
a glance. His entire, terrifying focus was on me.
He stopped directly in front of me, boxing me in. He lifted a hand, and I flinched, a reaction that
made a cruel smile touch his lips. He placed his hand on my bare arm, his fingers hot, his grip
firm as steel. His thumb found the frantic pulse hammering at my wrist and began to stroke it, a
gesture of ownership so blatant it made my breath catch.
Still holding my gaze, he finally spoke to his rival. His voice was a low growl, vibrating with a
power that shook me to my core.
"This one," he said, his thumb pressing down on my pulse point, claiming the beat of my heart as
his own, "is not for you, Thorne."
Marcus simply raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his cold eyes. "Is that so? We shall
see what the asset has to say about that."
Vincent didn't wait for a response. His grip on my arm tightened with unarguable authority. He
began to turn, pulling me with him, away from the bar, away from Marcus, and toward the dark,
private corridors of his domain. He was leading me into the heart of the wolf's den, and every
instinct I had was screaming.