The man who stepped into the room didn’t wear sweat-stained cotton or stink of fear. He didn’t carry the weight of violence in his fists.
He was clean. Pressed slacks. White shirt. Rolled cuffs that had never been used to wipe blood from a lip. Leather shoes that squeaked slightly against the cracked tile. His hair was combed. His face unlined. A man who walked through filth but refused to let it cling to him.
And he smiled when he saw me. Not because he liked what he saw. Because he knew what came next.
He pulled a chair from the wall. Turned it around. Sat in it backwards, arms folded over the top like we were about to have a friendly conversation.
I didn’t speak. He didn’t expect me to.
“Cloe,” he said, like he was greeting someone at a dinner party.
I blinked. The sound of my name in his mouth made my stomach twist. He didn’t say it the way Wolfe did. He didn’t breathe it like a promise. He held it like a leash.
“You’re awake. That’s good.”
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a small notepad. Flipped it open.
“We’re just going to have a quick talk, you and me.”
He looked up. Tilted his head slightly, as if studying me.
“You’re quieter than I expected. That’s rare.”
I met his stare. Because I knew better than to look away. He smiled wider.
“You’re not scared of me yet. I like that.”
He reached into his jacket again. Pulled out a flask. Uncapped it. The scent hit first. Not alcohol. Something sweeter. Thicker. My throat went dry. He took a sip. Offered it to me.
“No?”
I shook my head once. He shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
He set the flask on the floor between us.
“I’m not here to hurt you. You understand that, right?”
I said nothing. He leaned forward. His voice dropped lower.
“Buttheywill.”
I held his stare. He laughed. Soft. Easy.
“You think he’ll come. Wolfe.Right?”
My breath caught. I didn’t move. But something in my chest cracked. He saw it.
“You think you matter to him. That you’re some sacred thing he won’t trade for the bigger game.”
He reached for the flask again. Took another sip.
“You’re not.”
I smiled. Not because I believed him. But because he was wrong. So fucking wrong. He paused.
“You don’t believe me.”
