Angel Blood

38- Traitor

Sinclair

The phone on the table buzzes, drawing my client's eyes down to the wood and instilling a frown upon his face.

"Continue," I say.

"I'll need—" he cuts off when it vibrates again. Not even a second after, my ringer starts.

I sigh, putting up my hand as an indication that we're at a pause. My men know not to contact me when I'm involved with business so it must be important, but the action annoys me nonetheless.

I ignore the annoyed huff from the man in front of me and press the device to my ear. "What?"

"Have you seen the news?" Theo's voice is sharper than I've ever heard it.

"I'm in a fucking meeting," I say. "Of course I haven't watched the news, Theodore. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know for sure, but there was an incident at Rosalie's on East Main. A kid had a Glock and a body was found on the same block." He pauses and my heart drops to my stomach. "Oliver hasn't been answering my calls, Sin."

I know how much Calli loves to go out when I'm away. There's no way it's a fluke that the kid had a gun in the same neighborhood as my current living quarters—the angel bloods love training their killers early. There's no doubt that they've been waiting for a perfect time to strike.

I curse, shooting out of my chair. "Have you checked the penthouse?"

"On my way now," he says.

I hang up and shove the phone into my pocket, taking quick strides to the door. There are no other words necessary. He knows that I'll meet him there.

"Sir?" the man behind me asks.

I pause my quick pace and turn my head to find where he sits stiffly at the end of the table, suddenly remembering his presence. "Get out."

His brows raise. "I thought we had a—"

"Get the fuck out," I say, turning toward the door. I don't give a shit if he follows me out or not. The only thought that rages through my head is ensuring the safety of my woman.

...

Theo gets there before I do. He leaves the front door ajar and I push it open so roughly that it crashes into the wall with a concerning bang.

He's standing by the large window, hands tucked into his pockets as he leans against the glass. The stance looks like it should be casual but the hunch of his shoulders and the tenseness of his torso tell me something else entirely.

He looks at me, his face drawn with weariness as he shakes his head.

I've never cared enough about anyone to experience such a staggering sense of loss. Even with my brother's keen sense of recklessness, it was always different. I expected to lose him.

But her? Fuck, even knowing that her blood would be searching for her, looking to get me where it hurts the most and kill the traitor of their line—it hits me so hard that it feels like I can't breathe. Somehow I can't seem to wrap my head around what I knew would be inevitable.

Hot rage spills through my chest, burning my limbs until I find the closest thing to me—the counter, topped with a vase of sunflowers and other cutesy shit Calli's filled my space with—and sweep my arm across it, causing glass to shatter over the tile floor.

They want blood. Fine. I'll fucking give them blood. I'll string them up like animals for slaughter and scrape each individual organ from their bodies while they writhe beneath my hands. I'll make it slow. Take them one by one, letting each miserable fucking piece of shit watch their brethren slowly fizzle out in front of them.