His fake wife, their real obsession
Pamoradumped the scumbag, now i'm married to a billionairei’m divorcing my tyrant husbandwedding night: my disabled husband made me crywhen i left him, my husband begged me to come back
I spat, my voice cutting through the hum of the engine.
I reached into the gear duffel between Kian and Cassian, pulling out a heavy, matte-black tactical jacket. I slid my arms into the thick, protective sleeves, zipping it up to my throat. I kicked off my red stilettos, slipping my feet into a pair of combat boots Cassian had tossed my way.
"She's right," Cassian murmured, his thumbs running over the slide of his customized Glock.
The heavy black ink of his wrist tattoos shifted under the cabin’s dim red tactical light. "She’s not the girl who ran four years ago, Zane. Let her hunt."