When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 42

One look at Rowan is all it takes. Relief floods through my body.

Everything will be okay. He’s here. He’s found me. He figured out Sam’s plan.

The cops must be near too. They’ll come bursting through any moment now. They’ll lock up Uncle Lyle and the other men who kidnapped me.

But instead of keeping the door open, Rowan walks in and closes it behind him. Deadbolts it.

What is he doing?

His expression is colder than I’ve ever seen it as he stares down the barrel Uncle Lyle is pointing at him.

When his gaze moves to me, skating over my hunched form, his eyes flare with fury and then narrow. Our eye contact lasts for only a moment, but in that split second, I see a hurricane unravel inside his hazel gaze.

Fear claws up my insides.

What now? What’s his plan?

Uncle Lyle isn’t going to let us go without a fight. Can Rowan fight back if he has to? Where are the damn cops?

And what about the other Iron Raptors outside?

I tighten my arms around myself.

Uncle Lyle sneers. “Look, let’s calm down.” His fingers are white around the gun. He sounds…scared.

Ignoring the gun pointing at him, Rowan takes two steps closer to Uncle Lyle.

“Stay the fuck back,” Uncle Lyle spits. “I’ll shoot you if you take one step closer.”

“We both know that’s a lie. You won’t get paid if I’m dead.”

My stomach hollows out. What?

Oh…fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does that mean there really is someone out to get Rowan?

A shadow passes over Uncle Lyle’s face. “How the hell did you replace us?”

A humorless smirk graces Rowan’s face. I can barely recognize him like this. He looks bigger, broader, taller. And he’s not scared.

There’s a man pointing a gun at him, and he’s not scared.

“The question you should be asking is what will I do now?” Rowan’s voice is low and deadly.

Uncle Lyle’s throat bobs on a swallow. “Even you can’t take down me and my guys.”

Rowan just smirks.

The silence is so thick, so tense, it clogs my throat.

“Blake?” Rowan asks without taking his eyes off Uncle Lyle.

“Yeah?” My voice is a horse whisper.

“Did he hurt you?”

I bite my lip and shift on the bed. My breasts ache, and there’s a lingering pain between my legs. “Yes.”

Rowan still doesn’t look at me, but his expressionless face morphs into a mask of fury.

And everything suddenly moves very quickly.

Rowan is fast. He tackles my godfather, and both of them crash to the ground. The gun Uncle Lyle is holding slips out of his hand. They wrestle on the floor, swinging punches and throwing kicks, but Rowan’s got the clear advantage. Within seconds, he’s got my uncle beneath him.

Rowan reaches behind him, takes out his own gun, and presses it against Uncle Lyle’s forehead.

“Stop,” Uncle Lyle pleads. “Hold on! Jesus, fuck. Take her and go.”

Rowan laughs, and it sounds all wrong. It doesn’t sound like him at all.

Uncle Lyle’s eyes dart between Rowan and me. “Blakey, tell him to stand down. He won. He can take you and lea—”

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to stick around and rip you apart piece by piece,” Rowan growls.

The gun goes off.

He shoots him point-blank in the exact same spot Uncle Lyle shot Sam.

Blood bursts out of my godfather’s head and starts leaking onto the floor, seeping out from beneath his body.

The walls of the room spin, and I slide off the bed, needing to feel solid ground beneath me.

This can’t be real. I feel like I’m unraveling, the seams that hold my body disintegrating. My palms wrap around my head. I rock back and forth, back and forth.

Sam is dead.

Uncle Lyle is dead.

Rowan is a killer.

Dull footsteps approach me. Familiar leather boots. But when I lower my hands from my face to look at my savior, the edges of him blur.

He crouches down and steadies me, his gaze finally meeting mine, his eyes softening.

“Rowan,” I whisper. “What did you do? You should have called the police—“

He tucks his gun away and interrupts me by cupping my cheeks with both of his hands. “Are you okay?”

My lips wobble. “I don’t know.”

Guilt crisscrosses his expression. He pulls me into him and presses his lips against mine again and again. His kisses are gentle but underscored with desperation. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.”

His jaw tightens. He’s not saying what he’s thinking, and that terrifies me.

“I want to get out of here.”

He tucks me against him, his palm cradling the back of my head. “We will. Stay here. I just need to take care of something first.”

I nod against his chest, numb. “Okay.”

He pulls away from me. “Don’t look out the window.”

Confusion strums through me. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t look out the window.”

I swallow. “Okay.”

He gives me one final long look and leaves.

Some seconds pass. At first, I have no intention of getting off the ground. I’m not even sure I have the strength to do so. But when I hear the sound of fighting, adrenaline drips into my bloodstream, and I hobble up to my feet.

Don’t look out the window.

The curtains are blackout, but the sound insulation sucks. Shouts reach my ears. The sound of a scuffle.

What if Rowan needs help?

I don’t have a phone, but Uncle Lyle does. When I look back at his body, the pool of blood has grown, and I have to glance away. If Rowan hasn’t called the police, I should do it, but instead, I replace myself moving closer to the window.

Don’t look out the window.

There’s a gunshot. A scream.

My fingers curl over the edge of the curtain. I peel it back a few inches, just enough to see the parking lot outside.

Rowan is fighting two of my godfather’s men. Another two lie on the ground, passed out.

Or…dead?

It’s too dark to see them clearly. The parking lot is illuminated by a single lamppost. I can see Rowan though. I watch as he holds his own, each punch and kick landing with precision. His body moves fluidly, a blur of dark ink and shadow.

One of the men lands a punch, and a gasp spills past my lips.

Don’t look out the window.

But I keep looking. I watch as Rowan keeps fighting. I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s horrible and beautiful at the same time.

When did he learn how to fight like that?

Maybe it’s just the adrenaline. No, it’s not just that.

He’s confident and in control. Like he’s fought like this countless times. Like he’s been trained.

Uncle Lyle’s words swirl inside my head.

You’ve been sleeping with a New York gangster for the last few weeks.

Rowan kicks out one of the men’s legs and then rams his angled palm against the other’s nose. I shut my eyes when the man’s face bursts with blood. But a second later, I’m looking out again. Both of the men are on the ground now, and Rowan’s pummeling one of their faces with his fists until the body goes limp.

The second man gets back on his feet and then falters. He spots a discarded gun and dashes toward it, but as he reaches for it, another dull shot rings through the air.

The man yelps and falls to the ground.

The bullet went through his hand. It’s now a bloodied mess.

I gag, pressing my palm to my mouth.

Rowan walks to him slowly. He stops right before the man. Even through the glass, I can hear the man pleading for his life, just like Uncle Lyle did.

Rowan kneels beside him, pushes the gun between his lips, and pulls the trigger.

They call him the Angel of Death.

I let go of the curtain and back away from the window.

He just killed him.

He just killed five men like it was nothing.

I stumble over something. Uncle Lyle’s feet. My hands are shaking, and I can’t make sense of what I just saw.

Rowan saved me, but I don’t feel safe. I feel like I’ve been seeing everything through a veil, and it’s just been lifted.

The door swings open. Rowan’s covered in blood, but most of it isn’t his own.

He extends his hand toward me. “Let’s go.”

I’m frozen still. I can’t move. His fingers are stained red.

He glances down, grimaces, and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the water running. I should run, save myself from whoever this is, because this man isn’t Rowan. I have no idea who he is.

By the time I manage to suck in a shaky breath, he’s back.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” His eyes are burning with a lingering fury that still hasn’t subsided. He grabs my hand and pulls me out the door.

My heart hammers inside my chest. I wish I could trust him, but how can I when the truth is finally clear to me?

Rowan’s been lying to me.

He saved me from Uncle Lyle, but who’s going to keep me safe from him?