Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
His jaw drops as he reads over the words, taking in every last one of them, slowly turning as his hands ball into fists at his side. I do what I can to keep a straight face, but fuck, it’s hard. There’s just enough light coming from the hallway to showcase every word, and even if there wasn’t, something tells me Zade wouldn’t have a problem seeing them clearly. Hell, he was able to see through Empire’s tunnels perfectly. He saw the men ahead of us way before I did.
Zade DeVil is so much more than just a monster. He’s a trained assassin—someone I shouldn’t be allowing myself to be comfortable around.
He glances back at me as if thinking about dragging my ass out of bed to scrub his walls, but instead he lets out a heavy breath and leaves it be. If I weren’t in the midst of putting on the show of a lifetime right now, I’d be gaping at him in shock. I was certain that he’d pull me out of bed by the ankle and force me to spend hours fixing my mess. Though, I suppose he hasn’t seen his closet yet.
I’m not left waiting long when he strides across his room and clutches the door handle to his walk-in closet, and I discreetly pull the blanket up to cover my mouth, knowing damn well I won’t be able to keep my composure. He pushes through the door and switches the light on, and as he moves to walk inside, he comes to another abrupt stop right in the doorway.
“Ahh, what the fuck?” he mutters with frustration, dragging his hands over his face before walking deeper into the room to get a good look at the damage. “No,” he breathes a moment later. “Not the fucking suits.”
The satisfaction in my veins is almost better than the railing I just got from Dalton . . . almost.
Somehow managing to find clothes I must’ve missed in my rampage, he saunters out of the closet, turns off the light, and pulls the door shut behind him. Heading into his bathroom, he stops in yet another doorway. “Fucking hell,” he grumbles, making me snort a laugh. I’d forgotten about the mess I’d left after my shower.
Closing the door behind him, he quickly showers and returns a few minutes later, bringing a shitload of tension with him, making me all too aware of the fact that we’re going to be alone together all night, trapped in the same bed.
Zade strides shirtless across the room, his intricate tattoos on full display as he scans over his bed. He lets out a huff as he takes in the mess of charcoal and dirt I left behind, causing his chest to swell and the delicate pattern of his tattoos to dance in the process. He’s so devastatingly beautiful, my fingers twitch in the sheets as they ache to touch him.
He throws the blankets back, more than happy to sleep without them before flipping the pillow over to the clean side. Though something tells me he’s slept in much worse conditions. I’m sure training to become the most brutal killer in the world didn’t come with luxury mattresses and Egyptian cotton sheets.
He drops down beside me, his strong arm braced behind his head, his bicep bulging and making my mouth water. “Quit the act,” he mutters into the darkness, barely sparing me a glance. “I know you’re awake.”
Fuck.
“Zade?”
“What?”
“Can you tell me about Empire?”
His brows furrow and he glances my way, curiosity sparkling in those dark eyes. Despite there barely being an inch of his skin unmarred by cuts and bruises, his eyes don’t show the beating he got from Sawyer. They remain as cold and callous as ever, reminding me that he doesn’t deserve my pity. “What do you want to know?”
I shrug my shoulders as I press my lips into a hard line, really considering his question. “I don’t really know,” I tell him honestly, surprised he’s even playing along. “Everything, I suppose. I don’t understand how it runs or how you make things happen. Like is there a human resources department? Because if so, I have a few complaints.”
He scoffs, and for a second, I could almost swear I see a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “There’s none of that shit,” he tells me. “We run based on a mutual understanding that our members look out for their own. But if there were, trust me, I have a few complaints of my own.”
Rolling my eyes, I roll over to face him better. “Considering our current predicament, I’d dare say your complaints have nothing on mine.”
“Did you see the state you left my bathroom in?” he questions. “For what it’s worth, you’re cleaning that shit first thing in the morning.”