Chapter 158

The Predator

It started as a fucking itch, somewhere beneath my ribs, gnawing at the edges of who I thought I was.

I unconsciously straightened, swirling the whiskey in my glass and my eyes narrowed as her voice drifted in my ears. My little bird giggled softly at something my mother said. That sound… ah… how do I explain it? No words would do any justice. It was light and unguarded and at the same time it was like a knife to my chest. A sensation clawed its way up my spine. It wasn’t jealousy. No, jealousy was green. This was something deeper, something primal. And it pissed me off. Something blue.

What was so damn funny?

I fucking hated that smile. Or maybe I hated that I didn’t.

Or maybe it was the five-hour meeting earlier that was fucking with my head. Well, not a “meeting” exactly, unless you count my fathers treating me like a punching bag—metaphorically, of course. If there’s one thing Ralph Romano and Alexei Volkov agree on, it