Mark’s zipper was halfway down when the door exploded inward.
Splinters flew across the room, the frame cracking from the force. Liam stormed through first, his face murderous, eyes black with rage.
He didn’t hesitate — his foot connected with Mark’s ribs in a vicious kick that sent the man flying off Elena’s body, crashing into her coffee table.
“She’s ours,” Liam growled, his voice barely human, his hands fisted at his sides. “You f*****g asshole.”
Mark groaned, trying to rise, blood dripping from his mouth. “She’s my fiancée—”
“Was.” Lucas stepped through the doorway, calm, terrifying, his suit immaculate despite the violence. “And now you’re nothing.”
He grabbed Mark by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand, and began to punch him. Each blow connected with sickeni
