Ruin (Rhodes #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,55

generous breasts press against my chest. Her hot breath fans my neck as she tiptoes to whisper in my ear, “I saw you take her outside that nightclub, Aaron. You’re becoming reckless. Something tells me Tristan and Dylan don’t know about your little pet. Should I tell them and spike things a bit?”

I yank her hand, that reached for my knife, from inside my jacket and twist it behind her back. “You’re still centuries away from disarming me.” I shove her back. “What do you want, Celeste?”

A fake laugh leaves her lips. “How about we kill your little pet and you go back to being my partner?”

‘Yes, please.’ Aunt’s excited voice fills my head.

“The answer is no.”

“But, Aaron!” She pouts, the gesture so fake I want to choke the bad actress out of her. “When did you stop being fun?”

‘We’re asking the same question, lady.’

Screw off, demons.

“Probably since you’ve became a coward.” I lean closer to breathe her too strong perfume. “Why are you hiding far away from the centre of the banquet? Are you perhaps... avoiding someone?”

She purses her lips, but her tone is still jokey. “Seriously? Why would I avoid anyone? People avoid me.”

“How about... Dylan?”

Her face contorts. I smile. It’s always fun to see her reaction whenever he’s mentioned. Even someone as Celeste has a weakness. It’s my pleasure to exploit it.

“Do you want me to call him?” I continue. “Perhaps chat about how you left him with a hole in his shoulder?”

“Yes, let’s do that.” She swallows down her reaction and plasters a wide grin. “Let’s also chat about the pet you’re hiding under his nose. Would he and Tristan let you be after you targeted an innocent?”

A knife hits me right in the face. I brought a weakness upon myself and that weakness is Mae.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I push those thoughts away to focus on my ex-partner whom I always thought I had no weaknesses like she does.

Guess we’re too alike after all.

To protect my freedom, I need to find an opening to take Celeste away and finish her life.

My eyes drift back to the hall. Tristan is conversing with Lowell and his family. Dylan’s busy with some old lady whose name I can’t remember. I search for the pig face. Nothing. There’s no sign of Hampton.

When I glance back to Celeste. She’s gone too.

God fucking dammit.

“Xan!” I call, and he comes out after a few beats. “Close the front gates. Don’t let neither Celeste nor Hampton get away. Don’t question them until I come. No mistakes are allowed, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I storm through the hall, keeping my strides as composed as I can possibly manage.

Tristan walks to me with furrowed brows. “Where do you think you’re going? The banquet isn’t over.”

I give him my back-the-fuck-off glare. “Not now. I mean it.”

Once I reach the outside terrace, I run to my quarters and dial Kane. The more the phone rings, the louder the unusual sounds echo in my chest.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Who did you leave in front of my quarters?”

“Craig, Sir.”

“Only Craig?” I shout.

“It’s a busy night, Sir.”

Fuck.

“Meet me at my quarters now.”

I throw the phone, uncaring if it reaches my pocket or not.

Bloody hell. I made a terrible mistake. I underestimated Hampton.

The quick sound of my steps through the hall of my quarters sends a sinking unfamiliar sensation down my stomach. It twists my insides into atypical knots.

It’s open. The door to my quarters— protected by a password— is open. Craig is nowhere in sight.

My pulse overwhelms my ears as I take quiet steps upstairs. My hands reach for the knife in my jacket. Once my fingers lurch around the cool handle, my breathing evens out, a much-needed calmness washes over me.

My feet move of their own accord to the last room in the corridor. I halt right beside the door frame.

‘She’s already gone—’

I shut the voices out, an ability I rarely make use of, and focus on the solid handle in my palm. My breathing comes out in a regular rhythm.

Inhale. Exhale.

With careful hands, I crack the door open. Mae is splayed on the carpet, chest facing the ground, eyes closed. Her once beautiful features are bloodied beyond distinction. Lines of crimson trickle down her neck, pasting