He Forgot Our Sacrifices, I Took Back Mine

This was not the first time Sia Hayes had come for me. The kid was getting a little too full of herself. Time to bring her down a notch. I took a slow, measured sip of warm coffee, then called out, "Someone bring Sia's dog up here." My men dragged the beast in moments later. It was a massive mastiff, so big that he was larger than a full-grown man, and it took four or five grown men just to hold him back. I still remembered the auction house where we bought him. Sia had only glanced at the dog once before Dylan Marsh dropped a cool thirty million dollars just to put a smile on his precious little girl's face. The brute huffed and snapped at me, baring its fangs. One of my men stepped forward and kicked him square in the jaw with a loud crunch, and one of his teeth flew clean off. Dylan crushed his cigarette out between his bare fingers, then strolled over to pinch my cheek, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Lena Shaw, are you mad? It was just a little joke." I yanked my hand free and turned to my men. "Keep moving," I snapped. "If that dog ends up dead, I'll take the blame." I turned my head to drink in the sight of Sia's face turning bright crimson, then spoke slow and deliberate. "Someone came to me yesterday to complain. Your little pup stole the meat right out of another dog's bowl, then trotted right over to the neighbor's kennel and slept with that dog's mate. Sia, your dog really is such a good little mimic, is he not? I just wonder who he learned that behavior from." Sia's face turned pale with rage, and she dropped to her knees in front of me instantly. "Mom, I was wrong. I will discipline General properly from now on, I promise. He is almost dead already. Please, godmother, spare him, will you?" After my little veiled jab, Dylan went quiet for a long time, his dark eyes unreadable and heavy with something I could not place. "Lena, order your men to stop now," he said, his voice low. "Do not say I did not warn you if things get ugly." Threats were the one thing I could never tolerate. I pulled my pistol out in one smooth motion, aimed straight at the dog, and squeezed the trigger. Sia shrieked and lunged forward, screaming, "No!" The bullet grazed her cheek. The next instant, a bloody hole bloomed in General's skull, and he went still, never to breathe again. That dog had bitten me more times than I could count. Every single time, he tore a chunk of flesh right out of me, always when I got too close to Dylan. He would snarl and lunge to warn me off. And every single time, Sia would tuck herself into Dylan's chest, hide a little smirk behind her hand, and then pull out a fancy gourmet jerky to reward her good boy. After enough of that, the dog did not even wait for me to get close anymore. The second he saw me, he would launch straight for my throat. If Sia could not be bothered to train him properly, I would just take care of the problem for her. Sia clutched General's corpse to her chest, tears streaming down her face as she shook with quiet, heaving sobs. Dylan slammed a brutal grip around my wrist, raw fury blazing in every line of his gaze. His strength was terrifying; I swore he was crushing my bones to powder. "Sia is our precious daughter," he growled. "Could you not have handled this without making such an ugly scene? She is young and reckless. Making mistakes is normal. Why are you picking a fight with your own daughter over nothing?" When we first brought Sia back from the slums, she was scrawny and small. We all thought she was barely thirteen or fourteen, and we showered her with nothing but pity and affection. Only later did we find out that she was just two years younger than me. She had stopped being an innocent kid a long time ago. I drew out my words slow and steady, every syllable deliberate. "Whether she is young or not, you know the truth better than anyone. Folks who know us think you are just raising your daughter. Strangers would think you are keeping a young mistress on the side. What do you think, Dylan?" His handsome brows drew tight into a sharp frown immediately, and his eyes bore into mine, dark and heavy as black ink. "Lena, if it were not for me, you would still be selling yourself in the red-light district." A sharp, stabbing pain lanced straight through my heart, but I just laughed it off anyway. I threw his own words right back at him, lazy and provocative. "Dylan, if it were not for me, you would still be a useless cripple who could not even control your own bladder and bowels."