Travis’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t snap back.
“I’m just saying, Little, you might not know everything about your bosses. You’re smart, but you’re not omniscient.”
The condescension in his tone sets my teeth on edge.
“Don’t patronize me,” I say, my voice sharp. “You’re the lawbreaker here, Travis. Don’t act like you’ve got the moral high ground.”
The air between us turns cold, the harbor’s warmth doing nothing to thaw it. Travis’s jaw ticks, and he sets his cup down with a deliberate clink.
“Time to head back,” Travis says, his voice flat. “We’re done here.”
I glare at him, my heart pounding with anger and something else—disappointment, maybe, that he’d turn this on me after I opened up. I grab my backpack, Bean’s ears peeking out, and follow Travis, the bagel sitting heavy in my stomach—the good feeling I thought we were building suddenly tasting very off indeed.
Back at Travis’s apartment, I’m still seething.
The sleek, sparse space feels like a cage, all clean lines and cold steel, just like him.
He’s got the nerve to questionmyfirm?
Who the hell does he think he is?
A mercenary, a killer, part of a shadowy group that operates outside the law, and he’s pointing fingers at Knox & Rain?
My grandfather’s face flashes in my mind—his weathered smile, the way he’d call me “sprout” while we walked the fields—and the idea that Travis could taint my work, my purpose, makes my blood boil.
I pace the living room, my sneakers scuffing the hardwood, while Travis sits on the couch, his laptop open, typing away like nothing’s wrong. His calm only fuels my rage.
“You don’t know anything about Knox & Rain,” I say, my voice shaking. “You think you can just throw accusations around? I’ve spent years building my career, fighting for people like my grandfather, people who lost everything. And you—amurderer—dare to lecture me?”
Travis glances up, his expression unreadable.
“Calm down, Miles,” Travis says. “I’m just asking questions. You’d do well to remember who’s in charge, Little.”
“Don’t call me that!” I snap, my hands balling into fists. “You don’t get to play Daddy when you’re part of the problem!You and your Guard think you can do whatever you want—kill, intimidate, hide in the shadows. My grandfather fought monsters like you, and so do I!”
Travis sets his laptop on the coffee table, standing slowly, his eyes darkening.
“You need to watch your tone, Miles,” Travis growls. “I’m trying to help you, but you’re making it real hard.”
“Help me?” I laugh, bitter and sharp, my anger spiraling. “You’re holding me hostage, Travis! You and your precious Guard are the ones I’m after, and you think you can turn this on my firm? You’re a hypocrite!” My voice rises, and I’m pacing faster now, my hands trembling. I glance at his laptop, the screen glowing with whatever shady work he’s doing, and something snaps. “You don’t get to sit there, all smug, judging me!”
I lunge forward, slamming his laptop shut with a crack that echoes in the quiet room. The screen flickers, and for a second, I think I’ve broken it.
My heart lurches—fear, defiance, and a reckless thrill all at once.
Travis’s eyes flash, and he steps closer, towering over me.
“That was a mistake, Little,” he says, his voice a growl that sends a shiver through me, equal parts fear and something I refuse to name. “You’re gonna learn to behave, and you’re going to have your first lesson right now.”
With that, Travis takes me by the hand and marches me into the kitchen. Before I know what’s happening, Travis is reaching into the kitchen cupboard and pulls out a wooden spoon, it’s smooth surface shiny underneath the kitchen’s spotlights.
“Safeword,” Travis growls.
“W-w-w-what?” I splutter. “You have to be kidding me?”
“I said safeword,” Travis snarls. “You need to learn your place, young man. And you’ll start by having your bottom warmed up with my wooden spoon. I won’t ask again.Safeword. Now.”
“Red,” I say, my legs going weak as Travis leads me right up to the edge of the brushed steel kitchen table and bends me over the edge. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have slammed?—”
