“Who?” Jameson demanded.
“Callum. My sister.” Greyson’s eyes found Shadera’s again. “You know they’re innocent in this.”
“No one in the Heart is innocent,” Shadera hissed despite the images rising in the back of her mind, the knowledge of the President’s brutality.
“So you’ll keep her prisoner to protect them?” Jameson’s voice dripped with contempt.
“Yes.” Greyson didn’t flinch from the accusation. “I will keep her to protect them. I will do whatever is necessary to keep them alive.” A pause, weighted with something unspoken. “Why don’t you tell him what will happen to him and the rings if you leave?”
The question landed like a grenade between them. Jameson went still, his eyes finding Shadera’s with a question in them.
“He knows,” she said quietly. “Maximus has been watching you. He knows your location, the rebel headquarters, the clinics.” The words tasted like poison on her tongue. “He’s had drones following you since the moment I left. He has bombs, Jay. If I don’t comply, he’ll drop them. Starting with you.”
Something seemed to click in the expression that formed on Jameson’s face, like the last piece of some puzzle he’d been missing suddenly fell into place. The look quickly shifted to fury. “And you believe him? You think the Heart would risk bombing the rings? They need us. They need our labor, our—”
“He doesn’t care,” Shadera cut him off. “Maximus is losing control. He’d burn it all down to maintain power.”
The radio on Jameson’s belt crackled to life, Jaeger’s voice cutting through the tension. “Ghost, report. What’s your status? We’re running out of time.”
Greyson’s body went alert, his attention sharpening on the radio. “Where is he?” The question was a demand, edged with pure hatred. “Where is Jaeger?”
Jameson’s hand moved to the radio, silencing it. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Where is he?” Greyson repeated, taking another step forward until the two men were separated by inches.
“What’s the matter, Executioner?” Jameson taunted. “Afraid the Wolf might send another Daggermouth for you?”
Shadera sucked in a sharp breath of the charged air. The holo-lamp flickered once, casting Greyson’s mask in sharp relief and for a moment, his mask seemed to grin in the blue-tinged light. She’d never feared Greyson, not really—not even with all his threats and promises. But now, seeing him and Jameson in the same space, seeing the way they measured each other, calculated weaknesses, planned attacks—now she was afraid.
Not of what Greyson might do to her, but of what these two men might do to each other.
“Tell me where he is,” Greyson insisted, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
“Go fuck yourself,” Jameson replied, not backing down an inch.
Shadera moved before she could reconsider, pushing between the two men, her hands against their chests, forcing them apart.
“Stop it,” she barked. “Both of you.”
The radio crackled again, more urgent this time. “Ghost, extraction window closing. Thirty minutes until rendezvous.”
Jameson’s eyes dropped to hers. “We need to go. Now.”
Greyson’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with careful but immovable pressure. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“The hell she isn’t,” Jameson growled, reaching for her other arm.
Shadera found herself literally caught between them, each holding one of her arms, neither willing to release her. The situation would have been fucking absurd if it weren’t so dangerous.
“I’m not either of your fucking property,” she snapped at both of them, yanking her arms free. “I just need to fucking think.”
“There’s nothing to think about. We’re leaving,” Jameson argued.
“She’s right, I don’t own her,” Greyson started quietly, “but I do control what happens to you and your little rebellion.”
Shadera’s eyes shot to Greyson then flickered to Jameson. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Understanding dawned slowly in Jameson’s eyes, realization spreading across his features like a stain. Greyson pressed his advantage, ignoring her question.
