Then any photos he’d shown her, along with her sketches, were destroyed.
She was building a library in her head that didn’t exist anywhere else.
And Marks didn’t just want her to remember these symbols. He wanted her to become theonlysource of them. The only place where the families, deviations, context, and mutations could be compared in full. A repository with no paper trail.
A fuckingliving index.
Marks didn’t need to maintain files and risk getting caught with digital evidence. Shewasthe evidence. A perfect recall system walking around in jeans with ink-stained fingertips. And Jareth was the only one who could access it.
But what made my blood run cold was the realization that he wasn’t just using her as a tool.
She was his fucking weapon.
While she thought she was mastering form, he was using her to infiltrate rival syndicates. Quietly and strategically.
It was no wonder he kept her close and lied about what she was really doing. If anyone else realized what she was capable of—what she held inside her head—they’d come for her. And not to offer her a fucking scholarship.
She’d be kidnapped. Interrogated. Used. Or killed.
Because the only safe place for data that valuable was dead.
Fuck!
My rage was so deep it had seeped into my bones.
I stood there for a while, my arms crossed as I watched her needle move. Her face stayed relaxed. Elena worked on him with the quiet care of an artist, but she might as well have been tattooing a live grenade.
She had no idea what she was really doing.
But I did.
A slow-burning fury was building in my chest, and my eyes stayed on Elena because I didn’t trust myself not to shove my boot through the guy’s fucking ribs. He was the kind of man who delivered information without blinking. I knew the type. The ones who played clean and smiled politely while wearing a gun inside their waistband, about to execute a kill order.
When the needle stopped, and Elena peeled off her gloves, she looked flushed and proud. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips were curved in satisfaction from a job well done.
Darren stood, rolling his shoulder once, then nodded in appreciation. “Clean work.”
“Thanks.” Elena glowed slightly.
Of course, she was proud. It was excellent work. She just didn’t know what she’d done it for.
I moved before I even realized, stalking back toward my office, needing space before I punched something or someone.
I stood in my doorway, arms crossed again, and my shoulder braced against the frame. I watched as Darren paid and left, all smiles and gratitude, promising to leave a five-star review.
My chest tightened as the burn grew and crawled up my spine.
She was a fucking target.
And Marks had put her in the crosshairs, for what? A cleaner data trail? A smarter way to map enemy ranks?
She was walking around with a memory that could dismantle half the networks on the Eastern Seaboard if anyone ever realized what she held.
And someone would eventually.
Then they would come for her.
Which meant I needed to end this before it happened.
