“He warned me,” Eric said. “The Spaniard sent me a video with a picture of the Spartan Guard house. I was trying to sound the alarm when the bomb went off. I don’t think…I don’t think there would have been time for me to get to the alarm panel. Even if we watched it right away.”
“He didn’t intend for you to have enough time to actually warn us.” Regina shook her head. “In the past, he’s hurt but not killed. I think now…”
“This is endgame,” Eric said grimly, and Regina nodded.
Together, they made their way back into the castle. Everyone—all the members of the Spartan Guard and the guests from each of the territories—were gathered in the Great Hall.
Expressions that had been determined and defiant only hours before were now marked with fear.
Every face but one.
Eric scanned the crowd again, then snapped his attention to Grigoris. “Where’s Nikolett?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nikolett hated herself for flinching when Gus raised his hand, his dark eyes glittering with anger. It was an old, ingrained response to cringe away from a slap.
She waited, but the blow didn’t come.
Slowly, she lifted her chin, finding and holding tight to her anger and defiance.
“I didn’t rape you,” he said, switching to English. “I just needed to show him that I could, and would, take what was his.”
“I’m a person, not a fucking possession.”
Gus winced, looking so much like this sweet man she thought he’d been that, for a moment, she was dizzy.
“Right, given your past I’m sorry I phrased it like that.”
This man was giving her emotional whiplash. She was chained to the wall—and he’d shortened the chains, forcing her arms out and away from her body, the cut on her shoulder pinched with pain, thanks to the position. The fact she was bound was alternately terrifying and inconsequential depending onhismood.
“Why?” she whispered, trying to keep him here, keep the man she knew as Gus with her rather than provoking the man who’d only moments ago threatened her. “Why are you?—”
“Nikolett!” Eric’s voice echoed down to them.
“No,” she screamed. “Don’t come down?—”
Gus—no, this was the Spaniard—slapped a hand over her mouth and smiled.
“You know, I hadn’t planned this. Didn’t dare hope that I’d get a chance to confront him. Not really. Too risky. But you’ve made it all so easy.” Gus kissed her forehead.
Nikolett snarled, but his hand was covering both her nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe.
“Hello, Eric.” Gus shifted to the side, just enough that Nikolett could see him standing just outside the open door of the cell.
And so Eric could see her.
Nikolett met Eric’s gaze over the top of Gus’ hand, still clamped hard over her lower face. Her hands, useless and restrained to the wall by chain, clenched into fists at the sight of the panic and rage that flashed through Eric’s gaze.
Eric took a slow measured breath. “Take your hands off her.”
Gus twisted a little more, keeping his hand on her mouth and looking back at Eric. “I’m barely touching her. If you want to see my hands really on her, I could repeat what was in the video. Live.”
She expected Eric to break into one of his famous rages, but he took another slow breath, then shrugged. “Actually, we didn’t watch the video. Just listened. Mostly to the part where she called you by my name.”
Gus’ hand tightened on her face until she grunted in pain.
Abruptly, he released her, and Nikolett sucked in several deep breaths.
