“Trust us,” Cyrus murmurs, a scarred, tattooed hand coming up to gently touch my chin. “Go, be safe. I can’t do what I need to if I don’t know you’re okay, baby girl. This isn’t me doubting your strength or conviction, this is me needing to protect my family. To protect what’s mine and make them pay for even daring to be in your fucking presence.” “Cyrus,” I whisper, but his grip tightens on my chin. “You’re ours, baby girl, and anyone who tries to touch what’s ours dies a painful death. Don’t ask me not to go after them. I won’t lie to you, not ever. I told you that. This is who I am—a
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