Come on, you bastard. Give me something. Anything.
But there’s nothing here. Irritated, I push the last drawer shut, but my hand catches on something. I tap the wood lightly, the hollow sound bringing a smile to my face.
There you are.
Flicking up the false bottom, I grab the papers, scanning them over quickly.
The fuck?
I drop into Erikkson’s chair, reading through the correspondence in my hand with growing horror.
I hoped to find something to get us out of this fucking deal, but this… I didn’t expect.
Erikkson,
Thanks for the update. Would appreciate a timescale on when you expect the omega to arrive. We have several buyers interested. If you can expand the number of Denied omegas as discussed it would be worth your while.
Samuels
Nausea flips my stomach as I read the words again, my eyes flicking to Erikkson’s scrawl underneath. Several pack names are listed, ones I recognise from my training. None of them have gone through the Trials yet.
Except one. Ours.
Cohenis circled several times, red pen indenting the page.
This is what he wants.Thisis Erikkson’s endgame.
Alicia wanting me, my pack, that just fell straight into his hands. Because what he really wants is to sell our Soul Bonded to some asshole on the other side of the Wall for a fuckload of money.
And if we Denied Sienna, then she’d be sent over the wall. Completely cut off from her family, friends, herlife.
There for the taking. And we’d never even know.
My hands clench on the paper. I don’t want Erikkson to find me snooping around, especially now.
Carefully placing the papers exactly as I found them, I replace the false lid and slide them back into place. My hands shake, and I scrunch them into fists, pushing down the anger.
I need to be sensible. Logical.
And I’m taking that bastard down, before he gets anywhere near my fucking Soul Bonded.
I slide out of the door, listening out for the return of the maid as I take my seat. When she rounds the corner, face red with exertion, I’m exactly where she left me, casually scrolling through my phone.
“Councilor Erikkson is on his way home, Sir. He’s asked that I show you to the sitting room.”
I bet he has.
Giving her a smile, I gesture as I unfold myself from the bench. “After you.”
I’ve barely been sitting for a few minutes, a coffee tray set out on the low, dark wooden table in front of me, when there’s a commotion. Erikkson bustles into the room with a patently false grin on his face.
“Tristan! What a surprise.”
Aware of the maid lingering in the doorway, I incline my head. “Councilor. I was hoping we might speak.”
The civility feels like fucking ashes in my mouth, but Erikkson waves towards the door. “Of course!”
When the door to his study closes behind us, he drops his jovial façade, replacing it with a sneer that looks much more natural on his slimy face. “What do you want?”
