Grace inhaled sharply.
Bones stopped pacing.
Alphabet’s tapping ceased mid-keystroke.
And Ignacio—poor bastard—realized too late he’d just confessed to the one version of events that guaranteed this wasn’t ending cleanly for him. Particularly since we all knew he was lying.
Except…
I leaned in, letting him see the shift in my expression—the moment the line between interrogation and retribution blurred for all of us.
“Then,” I murmured, “you’ve just made this very, very unfortunate for yourself.”
Ignacio’s breath snagged—just a flicker, but I caught it. He’d expected rage. Expected Bones to lunge or Grace to flinch. But calm—my calm—always rattled the weak-willed far more than anger.
Before he could scrape together a response, I added, “Tell me something, Ignacio. If you acted on your own… did you just decide to take Grace after your crew scooped her up? Because she wasn’t the only one they grabbed.”
His pupils dilated. A single, involuntary tick.
Got him.
“We know,” I went on, quiet, steady, “her abduction was ordered. Someone paid for it. She wasn’t random. So what I’m asking is simple, did you take advantage of the situation? Did you see her and decide to make her your personal project?”
Bones’ boots stopped moving behind me, still and coiled to strike.
Grace didn’t tremble. Didn’t blink. Looking at her now, you’d never have recognized the sex kitten from all those ad campaigns as the same woman in this porcelain goddess with her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and intractable will.
God, I loved her so damn much.
Ignacio started to shake his head, but not in denial. In panic.
“I—I didn’t— That’s not—” His breath hitched as he realized every direction he tried to run in, every version of his story, would only tighten the noose.
I let him flounder for a beat before stepping closer, lowering my head enough that he couldn’t escape my stare but not enough to give him even a scrap of advantage. He still had to lookupat me.
“You’re lying,” I said softly. “What’s so damn insulting about it, is you’re not even good at it.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m telling you the truth,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I wasn’t paid. Not… not directly.”
“So someone was paid,” I clarified, then straightened.
He shut his eyes. “Yes. But not me.”
Progress.
Grace exhaled, the sound sharp enough to cut.
Alphabet resumed typing, voice flat. “There it is.”
Ignacio opened his eyes again, darting between us, realizing every shred of bravado he’d tried to wield had evaporated.
“I didn’t pick her,” he rushed on. “They grabbed everyone they were told to grab. I didn’t—know she would be one until she arrived.”
He cut another look up at me, and I stared at him. Waiting.
“Then…I wanted her so—I just… I just kept her.”
A low, almost murderous sound escaped Bones. Somehow, I rather doubted it was that much of a show. This piece of infected puss hadhurther because hewantedher and just decided tohaveher.
