Page 122 of Pink Ink

I’m on my feet and out the door in three seconds flat. She doesn’t have any work scheduled for tonight, so where the fuck is she going?

By the time the tracker stops moving, I’m on the sidewalk hailing a cab. I zoom in on the surrounding area, recognizing one street in particular that’s two blocks away from where she is.

The same street Lawrence happens to live on.

Jealousy, wild and hot, surges up my chest. I have no right to it when I can’t have her. She deserves to be free and happy, away from the Order and away from the danger I’ve put her in.

Reyna is too good for me.

I never felt the need to lay claim on anyone or be so utterly consumed by someone that the thought of another man touching them has the most lethal ideas flashing through my mind.

Reyna Sinaga istoo goodfor me, and I want her all to myself.

Lawrence had been hanging around Reyna long before the Order set its sights on her. If there’s one acolyte she’d be safe with, it’s him. He might be a paladin, but from what I’ve gathered, he sticks to himself and isn’t that engaged.

What I should be doing instead of risking both of our lives is grading assignments and prepping for the hit Shepherd commissioned. What Ishouldbe doing is keeping my brother safe and keeping Reyna as far from me as I can. But I want what I want, and I want her. I need to feel like I’m worth more than what I create with my hands, and only she can make me feel human.

No one has to know.

I’ll kill Lawrence if I have to.

Out of an abundance of caution, I change cabs twice on the way there, ordering the drivers to take unnecessary turns before I head into the subway just to go right back out.

It takes far longer than I’d like to get to the restaurant her tracker stopped at, giving me more time to seethe and think of a thousand and one ways to turn Lawrence into a centerpiece. I’m going to gift her his head on a fucking spike.

Two weeks.

Two weeks.

That’s how long it took her to move on from me.Two. Reyna has been acting like nothing happened between us, and it pisses me the fuck off. It’s like she doesn’t give a shit about me. As if I’m some guy she hooked up with. Like it—I—meant nothing to her. Meanwhile, I’m losing my fucking mind.

The cab pulls up in front of the restaurant, and I drop a hundred-dollar bill on the seat before powering down the sidewalk.

Images flash in my mind of every possible thing I might find. If she’s on a date, they’re fucking dead. Reyna can scream at me and hit me for all I care; I’m going to steal her away.

She doesn’t get to forget about me. No one else gets to have her attention.I’mher fucking man, even if we’ll never be together. I’m the one she talks to. I’m the one who’s meant to be taking her out to dinner. I’m the only one who can wine and dine her, and see what she looks like without her dress. Not fuckingLawrence. Not any random men or women who don’t deserve her. Who can’t cherish her the way that I can.

Desperate.

That’s what I am. I’m desperate for Reyna.

And she doesn’t get to move on from me intwo weeks.

I walk straight into the restaurant. The panicked hostess scrambles to attention, spouting off her welcoming speech as I storm straight past her.

It’s a religious experience having my sights instantly land on the back of Reyna’s head when the entire restaurant is filled to the brim. She deserves better than this dingy place. I’ll take her to every single bloody Michelin-star restaurant in this city to prove I’m the only one who can treat her right.

Fuckthe Order and their rules.

My heart beats erratically as I close the distance. I almost stumble when herdatecomes into view.

Are you fucking kidding me? She’s moved on from me with some scrawny kid in a Batman T-shirt?

Lawrence looks worse in person. There’s no way she could be into that. I refuse to believe it.

Steam practically blows out of my ears as I grab a chair from a nearby table—I don’t give a damn if someone was using it—and slam it down in front of the twolovebirds, dropping myself into the seat, hoping Batman has a brain aneurysm from the glare I’m shooting his way.

I want to grab her and drag her to my lap, either to put her over it or on it—I’m not sure. What the fuck does she see in this fuckwit?