Her Mafia Bodyguard

ELLIE

"You, my cock, tonight."

I'm reading Zane's letter and giggling loudly in my dressing room upstairs. He's been leaving me risque notes all week. It's a silly gesture, but I love his silliness so much. I just have to walk down the aisle now, and all the clues about tonight will no longer be fantasies. Zane will have me.

On instinct, I reach for the Jameson to have an innocent glass, but my fingers halt before they can grab it. It's been just a month since alcohol messed with my head really bad.

The night after I landed in the city, I ended up sleeping in the middle of nowhere. All night. A shiver slithers through me at the mortifying thought.

I still can't remember how I ended up doing that. I only remember walking into the Crown nightclub to hang with Sophie and her girls, but when I try to recall what happens after, my mind switches off.

And the worst part is, Sophie's been missing since that night. Not even the cops have been able to make headway.

Her father thinks she's throwing a tantrum. He thinks she will show up soon. I don't know what to think. An ominous feeling has been lurking in the back of my mind ever since.

I jerk my hand back from the bottle.

"Ellie! There you are," Tina gushes at the sight of me in my wedding dress, inviting herself in, "My God, you look so beautiful."

The feminine room feels larger now that my wedding planner, hair stylist, makeup artist, photographer, and bridesmaids have all gone to their seats outside.

I dismissed them because I wanted alone time to surf the net last minute for panic questions and answers about marriage on Quora. But I couldn't find a signal. I was frustrated and about to leave when I stumbled upon Zane's letter, peeking out under the white flower vase on the table. I had almost missed it.

I hold her hands, forcing myself not to cry when I see she's in a similar battle. She takes a hand back to fan her eyes, but a drop wets the corner of her eye.

"These are happy tears." She laughs, sniffling as she flicks her thumb over the wetness.

"I know."

"Come here."

She moves to the large sofa behind me, leading me with her. I'm careful not to trip over my long strapless wedding dress. Tina helps me move it out of the way when I dip to sit.

I mutter, "Thank you. My dress and I still haven't agreed on that part."

We laugh. She takes my hand, links it with hers, and places it on my knee. The smile she gives me is wistful.

"Freddie will be so proud of you. Don't doubt that for a second."

My chest tightens, and I shut my eyes, practising my breathing. The memories of my father and I rise like the dead in my head. Unwelcome. Grating. Scary as hell. A shiver skitters up my spine as his exuberant face and voice invade my thoughts.

But gone now. Like the wind. The past is gone. A tear falls, and I lower my head, hoping she doesn't see it, but that's wishful thinking.

"I know he will be, but if it wasn't for Zane...he gave me the courage to come back here. I don't...think..." My bottom lip quivers.

She pulls me in for a long hug. Her tears wet the bare skin of my back. I know my make-up is waterproof, but I really shouldn't try to waste the while it took to get it done. I suck in a rush of air, blinking past the sadness that embraces me with ice-cold arms.

"It's complicated, but you know Freddie had his reasons, so never fault yourself because of them."

"But if I didn't leave-"

"Shh. There was nothing you could have done, Ellie. Those bad people wouldn't have spared your life." Her leathery hand pats my back leisurely. "Now, we can all put the past behind us."

I nod, pulling her close again. Tina, our housekeeper, is the only mother I've ever known. She didn't bring me into this world. My real mom died while trying, but Tina has been by my father's side ever since, watching over me.

Her husband and kids are outside. Trey and Maria are like siblings to me. And I remember Daniel always liked drinking with my father whenever he would switch places with his wife because she had an important meeting to attend to. Their love is an epitome of devotion. I just hope Zane and I can live up to that someday.

"Let's go outside, sweetie."

She tucks my hair behind my ear and spares a comforting smile.

♡

The courtyard looks like a scene cut out from a fairytale. I'm starring as the princess and my handsome prince awaits me at the end of the aisle. Daniel stands and hugs me. It's been five years since I last saw him and his children. Five years since I fled to California on my father's orders. Daniel pours out his emotions as he clings to me. I've missed him, too.

"Congratulations, kiddo." A genuine smile splits his face in two.

He makes for the handles of the wheelchair in front of him, rolling my father forward. I don't look at my father as I walk down the aisle. It's hard to see him in that unconscious state.

The doctor said he's in there somewhere, but since I returned home, I can't seem to find him. The best he can offer anyone is a beating heart and a blank stare.

The decorator bordered the red-carpeted path to the altar in our courtyard with cute colourful flowers. The aisle also had three arched bougainvillaea stands encircling it. Alice, Tina's granddaughter, pours petals all over the path in front of us. Her walk is over quickly.

Our trio comes up next. The small crowd gathered here stands to welcome me. But I can only see Zane standing next to the officiant, looking as dashing as ever.

I get to call this 6 '2 hunk my husband in a matter of minutes.

My eyes water again.

"Who gives this woman to be wedded today?" the officiant asks.

"Her father," Daniel responds in his stead and quickly, they vanish from the front.

Zane takes my hand and brings me to stand in front of him. I'm extra careful with my dress now.

He mouths, "God, you are beautiful."

"And you are sinfully handsome," I smile, mouthing back.

The officiant starts speaking again, but as our eyes lock, Zane and I fall into our own little world. It is just the two of us, and it is pure bliss. My smile grows. I'm utterly incapable of controlling my love for this man.

"I love you," he mouths just before the officiant speaks again.

Ohmygod, the heavens really blessed me with him. I have never been religious, but I can't mistake this for anything less than a blessing. Zane is my best friend. The most compassionate lover. My soul mate. I found my other half, and he's the best human.

Time ticks awfully too slow. I'm impatient.

"If there's anyone here today who objects to the union of Eleanor and Zane, speak now or forever hold your pea-"

"Aye! I object."

I raise my head, taking it slow. There's a man I don't recognise walking down the aisle. Confidence licks at his polished dress shoes. He's storming towards us. My eyes narrow in confusion.

"Eleanor, do you know him?" Zane asks, and I shake my head, "No, babe. I've never seen him in my life."

I gasp in shock when he grabs my father's wheelchair without a flair of gentleness in his movements. The man rolls him to the altar again and no one dares stop him because he is not alone.

Foreign faces storm the premises. They all look like the man at the foot of the altar now. Hard masculinity vibrates in each of their tall steps. Before my eyes, they seize every cell phone and force everyone into their seats.

My heartbeat picks up. Zane puts me behind him at once, facing the man now climbing onto the wedding canopy.

"What do you want from us?!"

"Get outta me way." Even his calm, deep voice screams ruthless.

Zane grabs his shoulder and does the opposite. "I asked you a fucking question..."

A tense beat passes. The man moves in a flash. There's a struggle. I glimpse something shiny. And the next thing I know, Zane falls, lying in his own pool of blood.

Screams tear through the crowd, but I suspect mine is the loudest as I fall to my haunches, body shaking in horror. An ocean of tears pours out of me instantly.

Zane. No!

I try to crawl towards him.

But hands haul me to my feet. My legs wobble as I stare at my dead fiancé's pale face.

The man says to the frozen officiant, "Me name's Cian. Wed us now."

One Month Ago...

"Wolf, you have twenty seconds to eliminate your target."

Siobhan's calm voice wafts through the intercom earpiece I have on. She sounds just like her brother. In control, badass, and unaffected. It's always business first for the Cahills.

Up until this moment, we've all shared the same philosophy.

The sniper's sight still offers a zoomed image of my target. 38-year-old Italian male. Name: Fazio Vilardo. First born of the Vilardo crime family's Don. He's a high value target that will get us all killed, even after I pull this trigger.

"Ten seconds, Wolf. Target is on the move."

My hand lays over the trigger. I have a clear shot on Fazio's head as he steps out of his mansion, heading for his limo. I can take it and put an end to all of this.

After all, this man's father owes me a life. He took something precious from me years back. He took Lena from Cian, and now the boss is blinded by his hate for the Vilardos, but I can't only think about the past like he is doing. Having a clear head at all times is what has brought me this far.

'Think ahead, but never forget who owes you'.

The future holds more value in the criminal underworld than the past does.

"Take the shot, Wolf." A layer of control slips from her voice as our million-dollar chance slips from our fingers.

The corner of my mouth twitches. Siobhan, the great, finally knows what it feels like to not be in control of a situation.

"Are you there?!" the line breaks, and I can sparsely hear her words, "Take the friggin' shot, Loch!"

"Kiss my ass, Siobhan."

I take the shot.

I miss.

Chaos breaks out in the mafioso's compound. Fazio takes cover inside the building. His men are already scanning building tops. It's not rocket science to know a sniper is in position.

I duck, back against the parapet wall. I dismantle the rifle and toss everything into the black duffle bag I have with me. The sound of our drones leaving reminds me that the entire clan watched me fail.

I don't have a moment to breathe because Cian already knows. I dash for the elevator, but it's currently in use. They are coming.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, sprinting to the other end of the rooftop.

There's a trap door hidden somewhere on this surface. I run my palms over the floor, searching for it. Time ticks faster than a bat out of hell. Sweat slithers down my spine. I grab something. When I curl my fingers in it and pull, the hole opens.

I toss the bag in, retrieve the parachute, and cover my tracks.

The elevator pings just as I jump over the building's roof.

♡

I always make choices that should land me dead, but each time, I cheat the devil. The door before me folds open, and cool air from the window unit licks my heated skin as I saunter into the tunnel entrance of the clan's headquarters in Manhattan.

Siobhan meets me on my way into HQ. She's deadly pissed. That tough as nails look on her face should never be underestimated. Not even by gods.

"What happened out there?" she crosses her arms over her chest, putting her weight on one foot.

"I missed."

"Bullshit. You never miss."

"Aye, but there's a first time for everyone."

She intercepts me again, pulling at my shoulder once. "Loch, talk to me." Her concerned blue eyes find mine. "Because my brother is ragin', and you are about to lose your head."

I consider it. Siobhan and the rest of the Cahill's are my family, but they will never understand why I chose to save Vilardos life. Cian has already heard my reason many times, but he's too blinded.

"I need a drink."

"Can't do, Loch. That will have to hold. The boss is waiting."

I move ahead of her, savvy of my way around this underground warehouse that spans across all of Hell's kitchen. I live in Dublin now, but I grew up here. When Cian's father recruited me, this was where I worked.

I enter the conference hall a few distances away from the tunnel entrance. The noose around my chest loosens when I notice the screen's disconnected.

"Ya feeling relieved, right?"

I don't have to look. I pull a seat back and settle down, bending forward with my elbows on my knees. The wait kills more, I realise.

Rhys Cahill has his ankles locked on the wide grey table. He's a clan general, presiding over our American outfits. He's never been the kind to work a suit, but he sports a three-piece now and manages to actually look comfortable inside it.

"'Tis a good reason for relief, Rhys. How's it going with you?"

"Grand, that is, until an eejit pissed all over the Italians, and now we might have just started a feckin war."

"War?" I scoff out loud, "The death of Fazio Vilardo would have brought an apocalypse to our doorsteps."

Siobhan walks in as Rhys slams his palm hard on the table, "This is me turf, Lochlan. I have maintained peace with the five families for over a decade. It's a shame you'd never understand the fierce gravity of what you've just destroyed."

"The Vilardos have allies we do not want to piss off by killing his-"

"The Skipper gave an order. Our codex commands you to obey without question."

"Rhys, enough!" Siobhan sets in place a hardened face and thinned lips, and order returns to the table. "The boss wants to speak to him alone."

They leave.

I tap my right foot repeatedly on the tiled ground. My body still aches from my landing with the parachute. It's the craziest thing I have tried this year, but I couldn't risk a confrontation with the Vilardos.

They can't suspect Cian called the hit. I chose to land in a pile of bushes while presented with a fifty-fifty chance at survival. Simply put, I don't plan on wasting my sacrifice.

The large flat screen comes on. A tiny grey circle rotates at its centre for a split second. I'm not prepared for the sight of Cian's face.

Shite.

"Ye betrayed me, Wolf," he says.

Cian's blank face is as deadly as poison. There's a sea of rage underneath, but when it's quiet like this, he's in a more unforgiving mood.

I stand contrite, clasping my hands in front of me. "I missed, boss. Forgive me."

"On purpose, yeah. Did ye cut a deal with the Vilardos?"

"I would never do that to you."

"But ye would steal me chance at revenge. Make a bags of it and look me in the eye and say 'ye wouldn't do that to me'?"

This is bad. He's not even listening to me. I step closer to the screen.

"Cian, I still think we have a rat. Whatever choice I made would have bade farewell to peace-"

"Lena was yer sister and ye saw what that goon did to her." His tight voice speaks volumes. Tears. Pain. He never really healed.

"I remember, but this is about Vilardos fool trying to sway our biggest heroin domain to two-time. One life equals dozens. Even Renaldi won't have our backs if we had chosen to spill blood. Amn't I right about that?"

He pauses for a long minute.

"Me don't know about ye, Lochlan, but don't bother coming back here."

The screen goes black.

"Cian!"

I rub my temple. So, this is what getting the sack feels like? He didn't want me out of the clan, though. He just doesn't want to see my face, which means well, I guess.

I pull the door open. Siobhan's right outside, still looking concerned about my head. Will her brother have it? But she should know by now that Cian would choose to honour our friendship first.

Unfortunately, we are underground. There's no chance at getting fresh air down here, but the idea of a drink is no longer on hold. I don't see Rhys lurking around the halls, and I think that's the best thing yet.

"A pint of the black stuff doesn't make you any less screwed, Loch."

I smile at her. "You sound almost American now."

"That's not the point here."

I fill the beer glass, getting a sense of peace when the foam hits my lips.

"He said he doesn't want me back in Dublin."

"Could have gone way worse." She shrugs, leaning against the wall next to the sofa in this well-lit room.

"Aye." I grumble.

After a beat, she hands me a paper. "Rhys prepared this for you."

"What is it?" I arch a brow, wary of it, "Because your brother will never hand out favours in that state. I'm public-enemy-number-one in case you didn't notice."

"I put in a good word for you."

"Bless you, Siobhan."

She rolls her eyes. "The Italians won't be suspicious if the clan's Warlord is here for actual work."

"I'm no one's reaper. One job was enough." I swipe at her wrist, pushing the paper out of my face.

But she throws the flippin thin on my lap.

"The target is Sophie Lockwood. 5'7, blonde twenty-five year old and a regular at the Crown nightclub. Her father's the renowned show host, Nolan Lockwood."

I scowl. "This is good craic for you, isn't it?"

"Kill the girl," Siobhan walks away from me, looking over her shoulder only once, "For your sake, Loch, get it right this time."

I take my denim jacket off as I enter the nightclub. Sophie's earlier vague text said something about christening. The Crown is a hard mix of luxury and bad. I peruse the space with interest.

Dancing bodies. Alcohol. Bad decisions. Even soulmate searching. There was a time in my life when I visited nightclubs because I enjoyed getting the attention of men.

I would dress up like an entirely different person in California and hang by the bar, catching the eyes of any prey that's willing.

But I always cut it short before it could escalate. When the heat turned up, I ran.

I've been running my entire life, but it was Zane who convinced me to put an end to it and come home. He proposed and swayed me into agreeing to get married in the place I grew up.

Gosh, the way that man supports me is undefinable. Words will fall short if I tried.

It made sense that we would get married here. Zane has never seen this part of me. I feel like I owe this to him. So, here I am, back home, even though my father warned me never to do that until the day I die.

But the bad people who harmed my father wouldn't lurk around the city, waiting for me. Ellie Martin has been dead for five years. Only Sophie and Tina and her family know the truth-half the truth.

They knew I was alive, but they never knew what side of the globe I was on.

The music in the club amps up. I bob my head to the beat, getting into it.

"Ellie?"

I turn around, a big smile slapping over my face. "Sophie!"

She collides with me, stealing the breath in my lungs. I tighten my arms around her as she squeals in my ear. Her presence is too good to be true. I can feel her. Hold her.

This is amazing.

Moving and faking my death made me lose all my friends. Sophie's the only one from here that I still have.

"It's you. You are really in front of me," she pulls back, holding my arms and appraising me, "God, Ellie. If I die now, there will be a smile on my face because I got to see you one last time."

I giggle and smack her rib lightly. "Shut up, Soph. You already know what they say to death."

"Not today." She keeps a solemn face until it cracks, and a loud laugh seeps out.

"They should definitely hire you in the next season of the prequel. That was phenomenal."

Sophie flips her hair over her shoulder. "Thanks, sweetie. I get that a lot."

I smile at her head while she leads me through the loose crowd. Sophie Lockwood is as dramatic as I remember her to be. I may have missed out on our friendship, but I plan to change that now that the past is behind us.

She brings us to where two other stunning girls are standing, and I instantly feel queasy inside me. I fear seeing unfamiliar faces just as much as familiar ones.

The past may be behind us, but I will be a liar to say I'm not paranoid.

"Quinn. Alana. Meet Eleanor." Sophie turns to me, wincing at the look on my face. "Eleanor, meet my friends from law school. Quinn and Alana."

I offer a small wave. It's awkward as hell. I choose silence for the next few minutes.

Alana gasps, "Sophie, ohmygod, are these real diamonds?"

When she says that, I glance at the necklace Sophie's wearing. It's shiny and hard to miss, but it's not a surprise. Her father is a global hotshot, and she has always had the fine things in life. It's how we became friends. Our fathers knew each other.

But that life is over for me. Five years ago, I didn't just run because I was in danger. My father's business crumbled. He was attacked and ruined. We fell hard from the top of the world to the bottom end. From luxury grace to dirt-cheap grass.

I became poor. I had to buckle up and learn to survive the hard way. Zane stood by me throughout, and that's how I know he's the one.

I lower my head, holding back the tears that sting the corner of my eyes when I remember.

How crazy will I look, shedding tears in a nightclub when I'm not even near tipsy?

"Nice ring."

I raise my head. Quinn's staring at me. I don't like how she looks at people. Or is it just me?

She's nosy, and I get the idea that, after tonight, I'll be dead to her again.

"Thanks. My fiancé has a good eye." I stare her down and even slightly raise my chin. "Nice earrings. They are fire."

"I don't think you will know what brand they are, though." She mocks me with her thin smile and turns to Sophie. "How did you say you met her again?"

"We've been pen pals for a while now." Sophie spares me a furtive glance. "Why do you ask, Quinn?"

I see red. Quinn doesn't know Sophie has been my friend since we were toddlers. She thinks that in a game of kiss and kill between the two of us that Sophie will choose her.

I scoff. She's a fool.

"Save for that ring. She doesn't look like someone you'll befriend."

The audacity.

I look away.

Pulling out the hairs of friends of friends isn't a nice thing to do, but Quinn, the bitch, is tempting me so bad that I almost forget why that's wrong.

Alana digs her elbow into Quinn's side. "Does that matter? I think that doesn't matter at all," she smiles at me, holding my wrist, "Eleanor, trust me. Quinn didn't mean it that way. She can just be a little too blunt sometimes."

I look at her hand. I want to tear it off me and take the high road out of here, but I come up with a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay. I say we hit the dance floor." Yeah, before I hit someone's face.

Quinn snickers, and I can't fake it any longer. I scowl at Sophie. What the hell is her problem?

"Quinn-"

Quinn cuts Alana off. "With a clear head? Oh, Eleanor. That's not the Crown way."

Much later, I understand what Sophie's christening text meant. I've gobbled down so many shots that I've lost count. I sway slightly on my feet, but I also feel alive.

The beat of the music hits differently now. I can feel it in my bones, every chord, every note. My body itches to move to it, and I've never really been the dancer.

Even Quinn has loosened up. Alana's occupied with the cute bartender mixing drinks and pulling off tricks to make himself look cool. I'm alone with my thoughts for a moment. So, I trace my finger along the rim of the short glass, thinking about Zane.

I should have come with him. I miss him.

Sophie whispers in my ear, "Dance with me."

She drags me out of my chair and pulls me in the middle of the crowd. Her pupils dilate. She feels exactly what I'm feeling. The rush. The thrill. I'm wondering if the bartender may have accidentally spiked our tequila.

She runs her hand down my arm. The other one crashes our hips together. I gyrate in sync with her. Sophie's hands creep into her hair.

Then she takes my hand to her chest, moving down a path to stop at the waistband of her mini skirt. I hear her laugh. Her head falls back.

The song changes. It's no longer sensual. Her moves change, and I copy them, having a blast.

"Hey, was there something in our drinks?" I ask, bobbing my head to the beat and jumping.

I'm hyper, unusually hyper.

She laughs again, a sign that she's definitely not in her right mind. "Relax, Ellie. It's nothing dangerous."

I stop dancing and my ears ring in alarm.

I've never used drugs before. When Sophie and I knew each other, clubbing wasn't something I enjoyed or resorted to.

But new life, new me, I guess.

I glance around the floor, looking over my shoulder. But I just know I can't turn back again. There's someone within these walls whose presence is as obvious as black on white. He's standing out, and I see why. Opposite the dance floor, he's sitting down while being surrounded by a commanding aura. Somehow, there's a clear path between Sophie and I and him.

When his eyes look up from his drink, my heart skips five beats.

He's caught me staring. It's my cue to look away and not make things awkward, but I blame it on the unknown substance I took.

I gulp. Flashes of the things I want to do to that body of his sharpen in my mind. I'm suddenly breathless, out of control. My tongue wants to trace the tattoo peeking from the unfastened collar of his grey t-shirt. I lick my bottom lip instead.

He's a vision of darkness. The air of danger around him is palpable from where I stand, but my poor engaged ass can't resist.

I know how to breathe until the moment he stands, and then, I melt like wax, dripping onto the floor.

God, he's tall.

6'4-no, 6'5, that's it.

He has thick thighs-I slap my head, wincing at the sting of pain that comes after.

What the hell am I doing? I blink rapidly, clearing the fog of lust in my stoned brain. The tip of my fingers whiten. Fear makes me tremble. I need to run back to Zane now before I do something stupid.

I raise my head again, and he's right there. A few feet away, but he's definitely headed towards...me.

The space between us closes in. A whiff of his cologne hits me first. I suck it in greedily. I want more. Two steps. Four steps. The tattooed man is next to me now, but he doesn't stop walking forward.

His shoulders brush past mine, and I hear something shatter inside me. I feel really stupid. Did I really think a man as good-looking as that would leave his seat to talk to me?

When I look over my shoulder, I'm even more mortified.

There he is, talking to Sophie.

I exit the dance floor, red in the face and hot between my legs over something stupid and wrong. This has never happened before. Zane is my entire world. How could I have reacted to a total stranger that way?

I plop down on the toilet seat and bury my face in my palms, sobbing because I feel dirty. Dirty and stupid.

But suddenly, after about three minutes, the bathroom door collides roughly with the wall next to it. I jerk, alarmed. I hear voices. Male voices, but this is the women's bathroom.

My hand flies over my mouth as realisation slaps me in the face.

"This place will do. I'll send for the reaper."

Another voice objects. "I don't know. It's too clean."

"The cleaner, the better, Jax. Besides, we are about to dirty it all up." The laughter that follows is sickening.

I don't know what they are talking about, but I'm scared stiff. Their voices spark fear inside me. If they find me, I don't want to think about what they are capable of doing to me. I climb onto the toilet seat, going down on my haunches and breathing silently.

When someone starts going through each stall, a fresh streak of tears fall down my face. There are five of them. I'm inside the last stall. A whimper escapes me as I panic. The sound of my heartbeat pounds as loud as a quake in my ear.

Bang!

He moves to the next stall.

Bang!

He moves, getting rougher in the way he handles the doors.

Bang!

Bang!

"Jax! Why the hell are you still here?" a voice asks, unknowingly helping me bide time.

I mope at the black boots right in front of my stall's door. I'm shaking like a leaf now, eyes not leaving them.

"Checking to see if there's anyone here, duh."

"Oh, would you leave the damned stalls already? This place is as empty as your bank account."

From the space underneath the stall's door, I watch the pointy end of his boots turn right as he faces the entrance.

"Forgive me for being extra fucking careful, Benny. All the secured offices we have here are in use, and we've never done this in the open before."

"Do you hear a single thing? We are wasting time, Jax! He will be back any minute now."

Those pointy ends face my door again. Three seconds pass. My teeth dig into the skin of my mouth. I hear him grab the handle and open the door.

I die. I'm sure I do, but somehow, my body remains in position. He doesn't go all the way, though, but I'm exposed. He just has to peer inside and find me.

"Shit! Ares just gave the signal. The reaper is on his way back from Rhys's office."

"Since when are we so scared of reapers, Benny?"

"Are you sure you have a working brain? The man on tonight's job is very highly ranked." This new voice is a mix of awe and terror. "He's the famous Irish-American wolf, and they say he always works alone, so let's vanish from here."

The other one I had gotten used to his voice says, "'Don't know about you two. I just know I don't ever want to get on his bad side. I heard he's killed people in far worse ways than the devil can imagine."

I squint past the sizable space in the door when something on the floor moves. A body. I gasp inwardly as I peer closer. It's Sophie. She's all tied up in the middle of the bathroom, wrists and ankles tethered. There's a tight gag in her mouth.

My face ashens.

Fuck, I should have never left her alone out there. But why? The wheels in my head turn until it hurts. Why the hell do they have Sophie tied up?!

"Fine." Jax leaves the handle, and I let out a silent breath.

When I hear the entrance door close, I jump down from the toilet seat, throwing open the door to set Sophie free. I put a crack first in my stall's door to make sure the coast is clear, not thinking about how dangerous this obviously is. I don't think at all.

"Sophie!" I whisper-yell.

But before she can look my way, the bathroom door opens again. And with the speed of light, I slam the stall's door silently closed, heart racing.

I bend on the toilet seat as silent as a ghost again, trying to replay the events of the past few minutes. Because I've been very wrong.

The 'Wolf' that the thugs who brought Sophie in here are so terrified of, and that hot-as-sin, tattooed man from the club are the same person.

Fuck.