Taking her was a means to an end. The task was to weed out the man who had stolen millions from us. He may have succeeded, but he'd pay with his life. Hiding from us was a grave error he'd regret soon enough because once he found out that we had taken the one thing he cared for as repayment- he'd show up. When a man had a weakness, it was foolish to make a mistake like this. He would come for her, and when he did, he wouldn't walk away unscathed, nor would the sister he adored.

This was my fault. I hadn't seen his scheme. It was my mistake, so I had to fix it. However, it seemed the joke was on me. What I had thought would be an easy job proved more difficult than I'd imagined. I had underestimated the power of her big brown eyes, full lips, and sweet, sultry voice. Keeping my focus on torturing information from her- when what I really wanted to do was touch her, have her, own her- would not only be a painful obstacle but possibly my biggest failure.

Except she hated the sight of me.
But I couldn't blame her.
I'd walked out of her nightmares as her own personal monster.