CHAPTER herty beh noceur (n.) one who stays up late Ronan I was sti IN my briefs, my hands trembling as I poured some vodka into a tumbler. The outbuilding where Mila was locked up pulled at every muscle in my body like a magnet. She’d been out there for less than ten minutes, and each tick of the clock tightened an invisible noose around my neck. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I’d only distracted myself by turning on all the lights in the house and barking orders at Yulia. I wanted a cup of tea. My suit needed ironing. And why the fuck was there so much yellow in my house? “She will die out there.” I didn’t even hear Albert enter the room until he spoke. This was how men got killed in my position, but I didn’t give a shit right now. If the cold feeling spreading in my chest was anything to go by, I was already six feet under. “Get out,” I ordered. “It’s below zero. She could get hypothermia in minutes.” The words ate at my veins, but I told myself it didn’t matter to me. Mila had played me. She got under my skin, made me do shit I never did, and then she stabbed me in the goddamn back. Lashing out, I wiped everything off the bar. Glass shattered, and I saw blood dripping from my hand but didn’t feel a thing. I turned to Albert and growled, “I told you to get the fuck out.” “How do you think we’re going to get our revenge if she dies out there?”