I turned.

Ryker walked in like he owned the place.

He was twenty-four, tall and broad like his father but leaner, meaner. Dark hair messy on purpose. Full sleeve tattoos disappearing under the sleeves of his black t-shirt. A silver chain around his neck. He had Victor’s same sharp jaw but his mouth was softer, crueler when he smirked.

And right now he was smirking at me.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were darker than his father’s. Hungrier.

“Hey, sis,” he said, voice low and teasing. The word ‘sis’ sounded filthy coming out of his mouth.

My heart...