Status Updates From Control My Night

It’s 2:46 am on a Sunday. I have quick plans with Alice and Lacey early in the morning. So I really should be sleeping but I’m 8/32 (25%) into the special side chapter. So imma mark this as finished and finish the special when I wake up later today. This book was good. I’d like more baddass Mc moments and more info on Arwood’s family dynamic. But 4 stars overall this was enjoyable although frustrating at the

SEVEN WEEKS LATER
Clutching an umbrella, I ran across wet cobblestones as I departed Trinity College, heading for the pub where Silas and his family waited.
He was the first person I saw, his hair curling adorably around his ears. I set my umbrella aside, ducking beneath snowflake garlands hanging from the ceiling, and ran over to him.

Eilinora’s midnight blue gaze studied mine, intense but clear. As if she often analyzed the world and those around her and came away rarely surprised. Before Arwood, talking to someone like this would have terrified me. I kept my face as neutral as possible and my posture relaxed, like I had nothing to hide.

Isobelle Sayer was here.
She’d been in County Clare all along, slurping spaghetti and laughing like a member of a fucking sorority house.
I had no idea whether to laugh or scream.
A few indecisive moments later, I decided on neither. I pushed my chair back noisily and headed straight for her, ignoring Aoife’s yelp of surprise at my sudden exodus.

Silas undid the button and zip, his thumbs smoothing over the skin underneath as he peeled my jeans off. I wanted to cover my thighs, conceal them somehow, but inhaled at the look in his eyes. The way his fingers hooked around my underwear, the way he slowly drew them down, placing kisses to the inside of my knees, suppressed the insecurities that rose.

Think something big is gonna happen to Mc now that she’s 21. Maybe a new power development?

It’s funny, the things that stick in your mind when you’re heading for danger. As we exited the car a block from the warehouse, piling out onto a sidewalk slick from recent rain, I clocked today’s date on the dashboard. In a few hours, I’d be twenty-one.

“Miss Backhus,” Arwood said as I sat opposite him. “You wanted to see me?”
My eyes darted to the picture on the projector screen. “Another attack from Johan’s team?”
“One of my distribution centers. Five dead, ten injured.”
That was as good a segue as any. “Are you still having difficulty identifying him?”

That escalated quickly.
“Doesn’t release him from accountability. My father lectured me on using my power every day after I transcended. Most parents tell their kids not to drink alcohol or party. My father pushed me to use just enough to train. Just enough to learn. Meanwhile, he’s working for Arwood and doing it at every opportunity. Like a junkie.”

“Say it louder, yeah?” the guard said. “Gimme a few more months on the perimeter.”
I gave him a generous smile. “You have to start somewhere, right? If I ever find my beloved Romeo, I’ll let him know requirements for a midnight visit are via the front door.”
Silas looked up, having heard my comment. Our eyes met then tore away again.

GODDAME LISAANDRA, ARWOOD, STEADMAN. THAT IS HOTT AS HELL.

It took a second to register what I was seeing.
Lissandra clutched the outer frame of a ladder. Lamplight washed over the material pooling under her white bustier and the straps of her heels. Tanned legs tightened around a man’s waist, holding him close as he thrust into her.

Part 2 of the book at exactly 50% that’s great.

She clicked her tongue. “We lost all drivers. Some of our team went down in the function room. We barely got Arwood and Lissandra out of there—ugh, hang on.” She wiggled her pant leg. An intact bullet plopped onto the tiles.

Giving another generous smile to the bodyguard, I approached the table. Leon had just lost. His opponent chuckled as the dealer presented a stack of colored chips.
“I hear you are a ship searching for a port,” Leon murmured in his thick accent, stacking another row of chips in the first third and on red.

Dread pooled beneath the vial pressing against my sternum. I regretted every word I’d uttered about Leon. I’d been such an idiot, bargaining my attendance like this.
I was going to have to go through with it now.
I sipped the last of my champagne and sighed to try and disperse some tension. Leon towered above most people, his sun-kissed skin complementing golden eyes.

Is Arwood mc’s kinda uncle? And Isabelle her cousin whom has hopefully looks similar to?

I eyed the bottle of whiskey. “You came here … to drink with me?”
“And now we’re exploring walls inside walls. I love my life.”

Girlie can smell fear/ danger. Literally. Also. Ughhhhhhhhhhh stop being such a pushover my love. Fight for yourself please.

“We are taking steps to address the emerging issue,” Arwood said. “I appreciate you speaking up, regardless.”

“Nothing of the sort, Ms. Camardo. Only wishing to alert you to beliefs the Kohnstamm party are no longer satisfied with arrangements, and to potential danger coming your way.”
‘Camardo’ snagged in my mind. It took a second, but when it hit, I swallowed.

Silas gave a weak tug of his lips. “You can use anyone if you know how to leash them.”
His defeated silence threatened to pull me under again. “I wanted to say … thank you for standing up for me tonight. Against Steadman.”
Silas shifted, his foot brushing my hip. I tucked my legs closer. His presence alone sent goosebumps down my arms.

UGHHH THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING I HATE ARWOOD AHHHHHH AND ANIKA.
The woman Arklabd kissed is prob Sila’s mother and Arwood’s wife. The daughter taken is prob Sila’s sister.

Arwood appeared at the top of the staircase, clad in his suit. He whistled as he descended, slow and steady, and tossed a small black remote toward us.

Girl I wish you’d just punch these assholes tbh.

The guard turned, his eyes widening a fraction as he noticed me standing behind him. I met his striking blue gaze, recognition flaring. Short, neat brown hair framed his carved cheekbones. A light dusting of stubble coated a strong, angular jaw.

Dude. Girl just got kidnapped and forced to kill someone. Cut her some slack Anika. 😡

My pessimism reared its head again, reminding me of Arwood’s words about bullets and heads. “But if he’s not?”
“He’s motivated. He will be.”
“What are you? What is he?”

Some guests had taken the invitation to dance with enthusiasm, whirls of material darting beside slower-moving couples like us. Thankfully, Silas seemed content to talk over joining them, our conversation flowing between passing snatches of German, Czech and accented English. No one had tapped me on the back, asking me to stop.

“We cannot locate Ms Farouq.” The man holding me flashed identification that resembled what Zeina carried, his grip tightening around my arm as if to quell the squeal loading behind my lips. He looked to be late twenties, perhaps early thirties, and his face was all harsh angles—cutting cheeks, jutting, clean-shaved chin—as he scanned the street.