Prologue
Malia
“THAT’STHELASTFUCKINGthing I will ever do for you,” Liam says as he pulls up my pants and storms out of the room.
He slams the door behind him as he leaves, and I fight the urge to let my wobbly knees drop to the floor. That motherfucker just fucked me and left me here, bent over and handcuffed to the table. I can feel his cum as it seeps out from him filling me, dampening the fabric of my pants.
I’m not sure how long I’m restrained like this before I hear someone open the door. Perhaps a normal person would feel embarrassed right now, but I just feel numb. Not the usual confusion I’ve grown used to within Liam’s presence, or even the overbearing rage when I’m not with him.
Just numb.
Full, yet still hollow.
“Mal,” the familiar male voice says from beside me, filled with pity. A firm hand squeezes my shoulder, like he’s trying to comfort me.
Fuck, I hate pity.
Oren’s keys jingle as he unlocks the cuffs and releases my sore wrists from their confines. He can’t do or say much in this situation since he’s living a double life as both an FBI agent and my dad’s foot soldier. After I straighten myself and adjust my posture, I refuse to meet his eyes, but he takes my chin and forces me to look at him.
“The cameras are still off,” Oren assures me, searching my face. “It’s okay to hurt, Malia. It’s a normal human emotion.” I can’t form words, but I can scowl and see my glare reflected in his deep-brown eyes. He huffs a soft laugh that’s missing its usual mirth and lets go of my face, bringing his hands to gently rub my raw wrists with his fingers. “I have to escort you out. Make sure you don’t start any shit on the way out as you did on the way in.”
My eyes roll, and I scoff. “Just get me the fuck out of here, O.”
With a reassuring squeeze, Oren grabs my arm and leads me out of the interrogation room. Several people have gathered around the office, watching me like I’m some sort of fucking spectacle. But I get it—they didn’t know I existed until recently.
The feeling of eyes burning into me makes my gaze snap up, instantly meeting the icy stare of Liam Brenner. My shoulders go back in response and my chin juts out in pride while Oren leads me through the onlookers.
That detective bitch that hangs off Liam’s cock like an STD stands next to him, smirking like she won something. My eyes narrow in on her hands as she touches his chest, and she nearly explodes in triumph when he doesn’t make a move to push her off him.
Liam just stares.
Stares at me in a way I’m not used to. Pure rage burns through any affection he has ever looked at me with. I offer him a pleaser smile as Oren’s grip on me tightens.
“Mal, not here,” he warns.
He leads me to the main entrance, and I can feel Liam’s presence close behind as he follows us out of the police station. I see my brother leaning against my emerald-green GT while waiting for me with a bored expression. Breckin sits in the driver’s seat, cuts the engine, and goes to stand with my brother when he sees us exiting the building.
Donovan smiles at me, then dips his head so he can shoot a wink at Liam over the frame of his sunglasses. Breckin’s jaw is tight, a knot forming and bouncing as he flexes the muscles there.
Oren releases his grip on my arm, and I catch sight of Liam’s slack frame in my periphery. He leans his body against the brick wall, and Breckin pushes off the car to throw me my keys.
Liam scoffs.
“Car matches the owner,” his deep voice rumbles as I turn to face him. “Rode hard and put away wet.”
He tilts his head, a harsh sneer on his full lips.
“See you soon, Princess.”
My body goes rigid at the sound of that fucking nickname I despise so much. Oren levels with me with a look, silently pleading with me to drop it and go. My fists clench at my sides as I fight the urge to send a knife through someone’s throat.
I flick my gaze to Oren, dipping my head once before turning on my heel and walking away with my head held high. Rounding the car, I slip into the driver’s seat, and Donovan signals for his giant of a bestie to shove himself into the back.
I pick up my sunglasses from the console and slip them on, then look at the man still burning me alive with his glare. Giving him one last smile, I peel out of the parking lot.
“You’re a dumbass,” I direct to my brother once we’re on the road.
Donovan chuckles and shrugs, resting his head against the headrest of the passenger seat.