Echo by Sybil Bartel

Author:Sybil Bartel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Alpha Elite Series
Publisher: Sybil Bartel
Published: 2023-03-20T00:00:00+00:00

Echo

She was fucking lying.

“Bullshit.” I saw it in her eyes. I heard it in the space between her words, that fucking silence before she spoke. She still broadcasted her thoughts.

I also tasted her fear.

I’d killed too much not to know the stench of it, but more than that, I knew her. The innocent eighteen-year-old I’d walked away from, the beautiful woman she’d become, it didn’t fucking matter, she was the same.

She couldn’t lie.

I also saw the shift that’d just happened. Hell, I felt it. My hand on her throat, the change in her pulse, her breathing accelerating, her body tensing up instead of leaning into me—she was pissed as hell.

Good.

I wanted her angry. I wanted her as fucking pissed off as I was.

Her voice pitched lower, and the Principessa came out. But this was a new version. This was a Principessa who’d spent nine goddamn years with my brother doing who the fuck knew what. “Do not curse at me,” she demanded.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“And you will what? Speak without swearing? Question me without insults?”

Wearing her emotions like she wore her coat—wrapped tight and exposed for everyone to see—she wasn’t fooling anyone. Despite her lineage, despite whatever the hell Ademaro had done to her, with her, the brutality of the Cosa Nostra still wasn’t showing on her. But the weight of it was. “Careful, Principessa, you’re slipping.”

“How can I possibly slip when you are manhandling me?”

“Manhandling.” Any other Sicilian woman, any other situation, I would’ve fucking smirked. “Big word for someone who claims their English is shit.” But she was right, I did have a hold on her, and I wasn’t letting go. Feeding myself a line about doing what I had to in order to get intel out of her, I was doing the exact same shit I’d just accused her of.

Lying.

Despite what I’d sworn to myself not five fucking minutes ago, history was repeating itself. The instant I touched her and she’d leaned into my dominance, my resolve obliterated.

I wasn’t sending her back to any goddamn place where our old lives could touch her.

I’d kill every motherfucker in the Cosa Nostra if I had to.

I’d take a bullet for her.

But there was one condition.

She had to fucking ask for my help.

After nine years of her fucking my brother, I wanted quid pro quo. I wanted the Principessa who’d once begged me not to hang up on her. I wanted the woman who’d needed me. Not the one who’d spit in the face of my help.

“Manhandling is not a big word,” she argued. “It is an appropriate word in this instance, and unlike you, I do not employ such tactics.”

“You got something to say, say it.” She could’ve stepped back or told me to fuck off. Demanded I let go of her. But she wasn’t doing a damn thing except taking exactly what I was offering—dominance.

“I already have.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” I didn’t give a damn that she was speaking. She wasn’t actually saying shit, but her expression was.

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