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“And me?” Saint asks.

I stare at him a beat longer. He looked like a mix between his brothers. Hard, dangerous, but if he let his hair grow out a bit more, he’d give off a sexy, tattooed, pretty boy vibe. “Sky.”

The corner of his lips tip up. “Let me guess, because my eyes remind you of the sky?”

I hate the way my cheeks heat. “Maybe,” I grumble.

“At least his was a little more poetic,” Shepherd grumbles.

I shake my head. He’s pouting over the meaning of some stupid name I’ve been using inside my head.

How is this man a killer?

If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.

“Now that I know your names, you can tell me why I’m here.”

“We will. With time,” Maverick responds cryptically.

“Why not now?” I frown, growing angry again.

“Because I said so.” He raises a brow, daring me to argue. Well, he doesn’t know me as well as he claims he does from all his fucking stalking if he thinks I’m just going to sit by and accept his bullshit answer.

“Why am I here?” I get to my feet, demanding an answer as I glare at the three of them. “I want to go home.”

“Not happening,” Maverick states.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re ours,” Shepherd chimes in.

“I don’t want to be yours,” I growl. “I’m a human. No one fucking owns me.”

“We do.” Mavericks voice grows darker, and a shiver of fear trickles its way down my spine. He gets to his feet, towering over me. “You are ours, Cove. Have been for years whether you knew it or not. And now, we’re taking what’s ours. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be here. This is your life now, Cove. Get used to it.”

Tears of anger sting the back of my eyes. Why? Why? Why me? Why now?

“People will come looking for me,” I choke out.

The look he gives me, that pitying look, makes me want to scream. “No, they won’t,” he says softly. “The only person you have, apart from us, is Olivia.”

His words are like a blow to the heart. I know he’s right, and I fucking hate it.

“She will come looking for me.” I lift my chin, not letting my tears fall because fuck him, fuck all of them.

“And by the time that happens, you will be able to tell her all about your new life and your new lovers.”

“New lovers?” My eyes bug out of my head. “You are not my lovers.”

“I’m pretty sure we are,” Shepherd counters. “At least, I am. They have some catching up to do,” he taunts smugly.

My head snaps to his, body vibrating with answer. “That was fucking rape!”

Any and all amusement falls from his face.

He gets to his feet, nostrils flaring.

Reaching into his leather jacket, he pulls something out and holds it up. Wait a fucking minute, is that my journal?!