Ryan paced the length of his small apartment like a caged animal, every nerve in his body on fire. The TV murmured some late-night nonsense in the background, but he couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his skull. The half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table glared at him like a goddamn curse, begging him to lose control.

But not tonight.

Not after what Cynthia told him.

Not after what that bastard Mike Richard did to his little sister.

He clenched his jaw until it ached, his fists curling tight at his sides. Cynthia—his sweet, naïve, too-trusting little sister—was stuck in some twisted contract marriage with a man who...