Mr. K inhaled sharply, his kick landing square on the woman's side.

"Ronan!" With the last ounce of his rationality, he'd called out for Ronan.

His intention had been to tell him to escort Vivienne home.

But as he watched Ronan move to help Vivienne, even before his hands made contact, a surge of protectiveness rose in him, as if his prized possession was being tampered with.

He chalked it up to the drug's influence, distorting his usual composure.

Regaining his ...