CHAPTER Jwelve faodail (n.) a lucky find Ronan I tossen THE EMPTY SYRINGE to the floor when her body went limp in my arms. I’d kept the injection in my pocket since she ran into me on her first night here, waiting for the right moment to put it to use. And this was not the right fucking moment. Anger sent a rush of heat through me as I wrapped an arm around her legs and lifted her, her long blonde ponytail hanging lifelessly. Beneath her coat, she wore a bohemian skirt with a slit to her hip and some kind of blouse that didn’t reach her navel. So impractical for a Russian winter. As always. Her head rolled to rest against me, tear tracks wet on her cheeks. I looked away from her face and turned to see Albert behind me, his cautious gaze on the girl in my arms. He was as emotionless as ice, but I could only assume the barely-there look in his eyes was reservation about what I might do to her. “T will take her,” he said. I was sure he would. Annoyance flared in my chest. “You’ll go clean up the mess with Adams. There’s blood all over the floor.” Pd never told him to scrub a floor, but the fact he wanted to protect this girl from me .. . Well, that pissed me off. She was mine for the time being, and I’d do whatever I goddamn pleased with her. His gaze touched her again before he moved to comply without a word.