Adrian's POV
Fuck.
The word was a pulse in my brain, timed to the thud of my boots against the concrete.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I leveled the suppressed submachine gun, the recoil a grounding jar against my shoulder as I took down two of Alexiou's men coming around the corner of the loading dock. They dropped without a sound, sliding into the shadows like the trash they were.
I was shaking.
It wasn't fear, of course not.
I hadn't felt fear for myself since I was nineteen. Rage, that was it.
He had touched her. He had put his hands on Alexandra, the one thing in this world that was supposed to be off-limits, the one person who was supposed to stay clean of the filth I had spent a decade wading through.
He had dunked her. He had tried to drown the girl who still kept gummy bears in her nightstand.
Fuck!
Alexiou wasn't my brother by blood, but for two years, and even longer, he was the only person who understood the rot inside me.
