Cora blinked. “What?”
“You keep stalling. Complaining. If you’d rather head back and take your chances with the next bidder, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you again.”
Her stomach churned, the memory of those predatory faces flashing in her mind. “That’s not—” She swallowed hard and glared at him again. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“Then keep moving.”
He turned before she could throw another insult, leaving her no choice but to follow. The alley opened into a narrow street lined with crumbling buildings with dark, broken windows. Cora had no idea where they were, and she hated the way her chest tightened with anxiety at every unfamiliar turn. The auction had been terrifying, but at least she’d known what to hate, what to fight. This? This was limbo.
After a few more minutes, Grayson stopped in front of a rusted metal door wedged into the side of a brick building. He glanced over his shoulder once before he tugged the door open and motioned her inside.
Cora hesitated. “What is this place?”
“Safehouse. Now get in.”
“How do I know you’re not just dragging me into another trap?”
Grayson sighed and ran a hand over his face. For a moment, she thought he might actually lose his temper, butwhen he looked at her again, there wasn’t a hint of emotion on his face. “You don’t. But if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have just spent three hundred grand to get you out of there.”
“Three hundred thousand,” she parroted as her stomach lurched again. “That’s what you paid? I couldn’t focus enough on what everyone was saying to hear the actual number.”
“Yeah. Now move.”
Gritting her teeth, Cora stepped inside. The room was small and smelled of dust and mildew. A battered couch sat against one wall, and a small table covered in mismatched papers took up most of the space. There were no windows, only the faint outline of a second door leading to what she assumed was another room.
Grayson shut the door behind them with a heavy thud before sliding two deadbolts into place and turning back to her. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and for the first time, she noticed how tired he looked. The faint shadows under his eyes gave him a worn edge that didn’t match the stoic confidence he exuded.
“Start talking,” she demanded, crossing her arms as well. “Who are you? What the hell just happened back there? And why do I feel like my skin’s been stitched to yours?”
Grayson’s lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but something close—and he pushed off the wall, moving to the table. “You’ve got a lot of questions.”
“Yeah, no kidding. And you’re going to answer every single one of them.”
He picked up a stack of papers and flipped through them absently. “Name’s Grayson Kane. I work black ops for Bellefleur.”
Cora blinked. “Black ops? Like…military spy shit?”
“Close enough.” He tossed the papers back onto the table and turned to face her fully. “My team and I dismantle organizations like the one that put you on that stage. I’ve been undercover for months, trying to figure out who’s pulling the strings.”
“And buying me was part of the plan?”
“No. That was improvisation.”
“Great,” she complained, throwing her hands up. “So I’m part of your improvisation? Fantastic. This just keeps getting better.”
“Would you rather I hadn’t?”
She wanted to screamyes, wanted to shove him and tell him to leave her the hell alone, but the truth lodged itself in her throat. If he hadn’t stepped in, she wouldn’t be standing here, free to argue with him.
Instead, she asked, “What did that ritual do? And don’t tell me it was just ‘a formality.’”
Grayson grimaced. It was subtle, just the barest pause, but it was enough to set her on edge. “It bonded us. Magically.”
Her stomach twisted. “Bonded us? Like… What? Some kind of leash?”
“No. It’s not like that. The bond’s more…mutual.”
“Mutual?” The word tasted like acid in her mouth. “You mean we’re stuck with each other?”
