“Too bad,” Monster says simply. “I’ll carry you down if I have to. You haven’t socialized in the compound yet, which is probably my mistake. I didn’t want to have you around the guys until we were in a better place. But you need to realize that the men here aren’t all stone-cold monsters. They’re not Cain. They’re regular guys who eat and laugh and drink—”
“And kill for a living.”
“Yes, that’s their job, but it’s not their identity. So, put on clothes, or I’ll carry you out as you are now.”
He’s using the no-bullshit tone I’ve come to recognize. I know I won’t win this battle.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the elevator, and a minute after that, in the dining hall.
The room is wide and long, a cavern of stone and wood. High ceilings stretch above, held steady by thick cement pillars. A row of glimmering windows line the far wall, and beams of moonlight stream through, intermixing with the gentle yellow light shining from fixtures overhead and casting an oddly inviting glow across the space. Metal tables are scattered across the hall in deliberate disarray—some clustered as if for strategy, others standing alone.
I’m instantly overwhelmed by the chatter in the room. Sitting around circular tables are groups of guys who are eating and talking loudly so as to be heard over the noise. There are about a dozen tables, only some of them populated, and as I survey the crowd, I realize why Monster brought me down here.
This seems almost… normal. Two of the tables have games of cards going on. At another one, guys are arm-wrestling each other. I blink in shock.
Greyson wraps his hand around my arm and starts steering me through the crowd and noise. The conversations die down at some of the tables as the guys look at me with curiosity, but none of them try to speak to me. They just… stare.
A flush of embarrassment at the scrutiny rises to my cheeks. I shift a little closer to Greyson. I don’t necessarily feelunsafe,just terribly off-balance.
My eyes land on the most unique feature of the dining hall: athronethat sits atop adaisat the head of the room. Cain idles there, one arm leaning against the arm rest, chin propped in his hand. He’s staring straight at me, his usual blank mask in place, and it takes everything inside me to look away and choose to ignore him.
He’s the greatest danger in this place—I can see that now. The rest of the men… while I’m certain they each possess a stone-cold killer, this scene proves that the Nighthawks aren’t slaves to their inner killers.
But they are all slaves to Cain, whether or not they realize it. And I willnotraise a child in Cain’s orbit. He’s too… malevolent.
Monster stops in front of a table seating four men, though I only recognize two of them, Max and Tobias. I’ve seen the two other guys around—they were in and out of the apartment while Greyson was recovering—but I don’t remember their names or know much about him.
Tobias, predictably, is on his computer. Max is speaking with an unfamiliar guy, a man who’s tatted from his neck down to his fingertips. All four men turn their attention to Monster and me as we approach, and the tatted guy Max was talking to cracks a smile.
“Would you look at that,” he says with a whistle. “Grey emergesandbrings his girl with him. Things must be going well in paradise.”
“Sure,” I reply glibly. “If you call captivity and being surrounded by endless man-children paradise. Personally, I think of it as karma for whatever sins I committed in my last life.”
Tattoo Guy’s eyebrows inch upward on his forehead. After a few beats of silence, he throws his head back and roars with laughter. Everyone else at the table joins in, and Greyson takes it upon himself to seat me in a chair right beside him.
“I like her,” Tattoo Guy says, pointing at me and nodding with approval. “She’s gonna befun.”
“Scarlett,” Tobias says without looking up, “these idiots are part of Greyson’s unit—with the exception of Max. He’s a floater. That one’s Elijah,” he says, nodding at Tattoo Guy, “and the quiet one’s Bryan. Don’t mind his silence; he’s stewing over losing a card game to me earlier.”
“I didn’tlose,” Bryan snaps. “You fuckingcheated.”
Tobias gives him a dead-eyed stare. “Prove it.”
The two proceed to get into an argument over the aforementioned card game.
Greyson addresses Max quietly. “Watch her while I get food?”
Max nods. “You got it.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I mutter, gazing at Monster as he walks away.
“I’m not a babysitter; I’m security.” Max lowers his voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re the closest table to Cain. Cain is unpredictable at the best of times. Believe me, you’ll be glad of mybabysittingif he decides to try something.”
I swallow, glancing at Cain over my shoulder. He meets my eyes and arches an eyebrow; I suppress the shiver that threatens to break my composure, and turn back to Max.
The strange tension that existed between me and Max isn’t present—not anymore. There’s still thememoryof that tension, but it’s dispersed. It makes me more comfortable around him, but it also brings questions to mind. I still remember him saying that if it weren’t for Greyson, we’d be a lot more than friends…
I know he and Greyson were arguing at the time. It seems likely that they made up and have decided to each stay in their respective lanes, for which I’m grateful. I think I might appreciate Max as a friend, but I already have enough romantic drama in my life. I amnotlooking to muddy the waters any further.
