“What is it?” Wyatt presses his forearms onto the table and whispers harshly. Dax shrugs him off.
“We’ll discuss it later.”
Garret groans, pressing himself into my sight and casually hanging his arm over my shoulder.
“Please, for the love of fuck, can we discuss it now? I’m struggling to remain in my seat.”
“It’s Thiago,” Dax sighs. “The number Wyatt gave him was a dead end, already disabled, and any previous data on it was encrypted.” Dax’s phone buzzes again, and he glances down, his lips pressing into a thin line. This time, he leans into the table and lowers his voice. “So instead, he’s found a hidden security system in this room, and he’s working through the true identities of those present, trying to give us something to work with.”
My eyes flick around the corners of the room, spotting the tiny red lights hidden within the gold edging. I never would have noticed, and I wonder if the attendees are aware.
Opening an image, Dax turns his screen slowly for the rest of us to see, the glow briefly illuminating each of our grim faces. A gentleman with a thick moustache in the same shade as his light brown comb over, standing tall and proud as he accepts some award. He’s wearing a stiff black jacket, yellow stripes on the cuffs, and a checked tie. His badge identifies him as Warren Briggs, Chief of Police.
I suck in a breath at the same time Garrett’s arm around my shoulder tightens.
“That’s the man Taylor was talking to,” Wyatt mutters.
“He’s yet to bid on anyone,” Huxley adds very observantly. All of our heads whip to the man in question, sitting off to the side and slowly sipping champagne. He doesn’t jeer or holler; he doesn’t draw any attention to himself. Hux clicks his tongue. “I bet he’s waiting for the silent auction of Top-Knot.”
This is what Axel wanted. For us to make valuable connections and push forward with searching for Meg. That’s the ultimate goal here, to bring my twin home safe. It’s what we’re all fighting for. Wyatt swallows, his mind jumping into overdrive with possible scenarios. I see it in the ticking of his jaw, the pop of his knuckles against his palm. But whatever plan he might come up with is cut short, as Huxley apparently makes the decision for us.
“I’ll go.”
“Go… where?” Dax frowns, and Hux jerks his head towards Warren.
“There’s an empty seat next to him. I’ll go… I don’t know, mingle?” He half shrugs, already pushing his seat back. Garrett releases me to sit forward and hold out a hand.
“Wait. You want to mingle with someone who came here to peg a man with the same body shape and hair length as you? What are you going to do, crawl into his lap and call him Daddy?”
Huxley pales slightly, but he doesn’t look any less adamant. “I suppose. I’m his type, and we need a way in. I could do some digging, get something we can blackmail him with.” Garrett erupts in a bout of hysterics, earning a few glances from around the room. He can’t contain himself, the entire notion is ridiculous to him.
Wyatt tells Garrett to settle down before turning back to Hux. Shaking his head, he curses beneath his breath. “You can’t just rush into this. We need to discuss?—”
“There’s no point having a plan if we miss our shot,” Huxley growls back. “What if he only comes once a month, or a few times a year? How long are we going to attend these sick-fests with the hopes of implementing a well-thought-out plan?” Huxley’s nails dig into his palm, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks like he’s on the verge of bolting, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. Rage aimed at Warren, the performance taking place on stage, and us for shooting down his suggestion.
Steeling himself, he pushes to his feet and rounds the back of the table. His fingers brush my back on the way passed, and my trace snaps. I shoot up in my heels, spinning to grab Huxley’s polo and pull him into me.
“So we’re whoring ourselves out now?” I enter the conversation, previously dumbstruck by what I’m hearing. “Shall I strip down andjump up on stage? Maybe someone will spill all their secrets to me while I straddle them.”
Hux’s chocolate eyes darken, his nostrils flaring. He doesn’t like that idea, so he apparently knows exactly how I feel. I know what he’s thinking. He wants to get answers so we can get closer to finding Meg. But I made a vow to not let us become fractured along the way, to allow them to sacrifice themselves for my mission. My hand finds Huxley’s, squeezing it tightly. “We can find another way.”
But Hux pulls his hand away, his gaze shifting back to the man sitting oblivious a few meters away. His shoulders straighten, and he forces a calm expression onto his face.
“Wyatt isn’t the only one prepared to lose you if it means saving you.”
My chest tightens. The very idea of Huxley having to interact with this man and pretend to be interested makes me want to scream. He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn't have to sacrifice his dignity.Hypocritical, I know.If Warren liked women, I would already be in his lap, flirting my way towards asking for a favor. But Huxley has been through so much, his confidence is barely hanging on by a thread. The damage of trading his soul for my cause could be irreparable.
That must be what drives the anger to explode within me. The injustice of it all screaming louder in my head than Sharon’s following cackle.
“Well, maybe my love for you is too selfish for heroics, but I’m not prepared to lose you. Not one little bit.” I try to storm away, but I don’t make it very far. I can’t leave the room, can’t bring myself not to watch. At the back of the dining room, I press my back aside the wall and fold my arms. Wyatt comes to stand by my side, his expression hardening into something unreadable. Hux bridges the gap between himself and the man, and with every step, my heart aches more.
This isn’t right. None of it is right or fair, and a faint voice tells me we’re playing into Sharon’s hand.
Warren’s profile reveals itself as he turns his head and greets his new companion. My stomach twists with renewed unease as I notice the way his gaze lingers a little too long and the way his lips curl into a faint, greedy smile. His expensive suit stretches slightly as he offers out hishand, his eyes locked on Huxley. After a moment of hesitation, Hux accepts it and sits in the vacant seat.
The rest of the auction fades into the background as the two of them engage in conversation. I can’t hear what’s being said, but Warren’s body language is relaxed. Huxley, on the other hand, is visibly tense, though he’s doing his best to hide it.
Wyatt steps closer to me, his hand brushing against mine in a subtle gesture of support. I glance at him, and for a moment, I see the cracks in his carefully constructed facade. He hates this just as much as I do, but he knows it’s necessary. He knows it needed to be done, even if he’d never have asked Hux to do it.
