Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(74)

Elora’s cheeks colored as her rage grew. “Perhaps you’ve failed to notice but you’re not in charge here. Unlike everyone else that you have wrapped around your thumb, these men answer to me. So unless you’re ready to meet your death at the hands of them, I suggest you watch your tone.”

There was a dark sort of amusement in the Kingmaker’s eyes as he regarded the woman, as though she were a bug he wasn’t quite ready to squash. “And how carefully do you think I should tread?”

Elora, though she was still standing proud, hesitated a moment before she finally spoke. “You underestimate me at your own peril.”

“Or perhaps it is you that underestimates me, but that’s no fault of your own. If that husband of yours had taught you anything more than how best to suck his cock, you would know that. But I’ll rectify that error.”

Her mouth opened, readying to snap out another reply, but before she could get a word in, the Kingmaker lifted a hand to silence her.

“Kill them all.”

Even Amber felt a moment of confusion before the sound of splintering glass had her jolting from her position on the floor, a yelp of surprise leaving her as the hand that was clenched in her hair loosened as the man it was attached to jerked back, slamming into the ground as a bullet plunged its way into his head.

The force of his fall knocked her to the ground as well, the glass that now littered the floor slicing into her hands and along her arms, but she ignored that pain as more bodies hit the floor.

Seconds … that was all it had taken for the tides to shift in the Kingmaker’s favor.

Amber had thought she had seen power in Kyrnon or Niklaus or Mishca or Luka, but it was nothing compared to this man.

“Now, should I continue on with this demonstration, or do you get my point?” The Kingmaker asked, as though he hadn’t ordered the execution of at least four men. “But know that my men are not ordered to kill you, Elora. We’ll start at your ankles and work our way up. It will be a slow and painful death should it come to that. Now, shall we begin?”

Realizing she was out of options, and desperately wanting to live, Elora swallowed her pride. “What do you want?”

He smiled. “I’m so glad you asked.” But the Kingmaker didn’t give a demand just yet, instead he looked to Amber first, cold eyes sweeping over her, then to Kyrnon who was already on his feet and moving toward her. “Take her. Expect a call in one hour.”

Amber was still staring at the man, even as she felt Kyrnon’s touch on her arm, helping her to her feet. She had fully expected another threat to leave his lips, this one addressed to her, making sure she understood that she was never to talk about what she had witnessed.

But as she was turned to exit, nearly tripping over one of the bodies on the floor, she realized there was no need for a verbal warning.

It lay all around her on the cold marble flooring.



* * *



Dabbing a cotton ball soaked in peroxide against the cut on her palm, Kyrnon was quite thorough in cleaning the wound on her hand, losing himself in the act. It was enough to focus him squarely on her being alive and right there next to him.

“Kyrnon,” she said gently, as though he were the one that had been taken and she were trying to talk him down, “I’m fine.”

It didn’t matter how many times she told him that, and it had been numerous since he had gotten her in the back of his car, racing away from the bloody scene that they left behind, he wasn’t ready to believe that.

He had f*cked up.

Because of him, she had been taken, and while there were only a few cuts and slight bruising on her wrists, the sight of them was enough to make his mounting frustration worse.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Kyrnon was torn from his thoughts when Amber pulled away from him, forcing him to finally look at her and actually acknowledge what she was saying.

“You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You were—”

“Fine,” she stressed. “I was fine, and I’m fine now.”

Gently picking up her hands, he looked down at her palms. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

There was a difference between knowing what he did, and becoming a target because of it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kyrnon,” she said softly, so soft that he almost didn’t hear her. “And I’m not going to freak out because of what happened.”

Kyrnon wasn’t so sure about that.

There were just some things one couldn’t help—and he knew from experience that witnessing the murders they had both been subjected to was not easy to swallow. He had seen a lot of things in his time as a mercenary, and even before it, but this … even he hadn’t fully comprehended what the Kingmaker had done.

She wasn’t of this life, and this, if he were being honest, wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

They were both lucky in that regard.

“I would understand if you did,” Kyrnon said.

She looked unsure as she fiddled with her hands in her lap. “The Kingmaker …”

Kyrnon had wondered when she would bring him up. “He’s my handler, and someone I hope you never have to cross paths with again.”

“So … this is your boss?”