Page 103 of Killian De Luca

All of them not being here should be a loud enough sign.

I swear if my dad touches a hair on her body, not even Satan himself can save him.

I take the elevators up to the hotel rooms.

My heart racing and my eye twitching from all the thoughts swarming through my head.

I’m overthinking.

I’m being fucking dramatic.

My dad would be stupid to do what I’m thinking.

The elevator dings and as I get out, I hear a gunshot.

My stomach fucking drops.

I take out my gun and run towards the sound of grunting and where the gunshot came from. The grunting and sounds of things falling become more prominent as I get closer and closer to a staff room door.

I push the door open and hold up my gun.

The lighting is dim, but I see my dad and Malcom fighting, punching each other until they are both bloody and bruised.

A gun is on the floor while I notice my dad’s gun in his waistband.

Malcolm's underboss and one of my dad's men are fighting each other off.

But what I’m really fucking fuming over is the fact that Reign is watching all this unfold with one of my dad’s men straddling her on the floor, begging the guard to let her go.

I run towards her and push the guard to the floor. I press him against the floor and start punching him, banging his head against the floor.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Fucking. Touch. Her. Again,” I say after each bang of his head.

“Stop! Think about this-”

“Think?” I ask, looking down at him with dark eyes. “You have no fucking clue what I’m thinking about right now.”

I take my lighter out, get off of him before setting his jacket on fire.

He screams and yells as the fire spreads to his entire body.

He gets up and tries to get rid of the fire while screaming.

Malcom and my dad pause, looking at the guard on fire while I go to Reign and hold her against me.

He screams, yells, and fucking begs for someone to save him, but my mind goes to Reign.

My pulse slows and my heart feels calm for just a few seconds as I stare into her beautiful blues.

“You, okay?” I ask, holding her face in my hands while looking at every inch of her to make sure she doesn’t have a scratches or bruises.

She nods her head and licks her dry lips. She turns her head to look behind me, making me turn my head.

Malcom and my dad stopped fighting as well as their soldiers. They are all bloody and bruised.

They look torn up.

My dad's eyes are void, nothing behind them.