I stood in the center of the training ground, the silence of my men ringing in my ears like a physical blow. The air where Chloe had stood only moments ago was still charged with her scent—vanilla and soft like the morning dew—and the lingering heat of her rage. No traces of hospitals or antiseptic. She smells so nice that if you hadn't seen her carrying out surgeries before, you wouldn't know she cuts and stitches people's hearts every day. I was literally fuming with anger; if a bird neared me, it would be burned to death by the heat of my fury.
My jaw ached. Not from the slap she'd delivered the night before, but from the sheer force of holding back the roar that wanted to tear out of my throat.
"Boss?" Jupiter stepped forward, his eyes wary. He was playing the part of the loyal right hand, but he didn't have the history Marcus had. He didn't know how close he was to the edge. "Do you want us to handle the disruption?"
