I shake my head. "I'm not destined to be queen. But my blood right is a seat at the table."
He prods, "Then why do you have to earn it?"
"Because Sean's father didn't believe in handouts. Every position, every privilege, every breath you take has to be earned," I relay.
"It all sounds stupid," he comments.
"It's not. And you'll come to understand it all," I assure him.
He rolls his eyes. "If you say so, Minx."
I fold my arms. "You may think the Underworld is stupid, but it doesn't care what you think. It only cares that you fall in line."
A dark, disobedient expression falls over him. He grinds his molars, looking at me like he wants to kill me.
"It is what it is," I say in a softer tone.
He looks at the ceiling, then back at me. "Then start teaching me. Isn't that your job?"
I stay silent.
He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over that maddening chest. "What's lesson one? Bowing? Saluting? Or chanting some creepy Omni hymn?"
"You use humor to cover your fear."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
He raises a brow, unfazed. "Show me why."
Hot blood flows through my veins. I turn sharply and walk out of his room.
He follows me, close on my heels. "Scared to show me?"
I go directly to the place I prepared last night. It's a space no one should ever be comfortable entering.
I step into his laundry room and open a newly installed panel.
"What the fuck?" he mutters.
I punch in a code. A near-invisible vertical seam in the wall opens.
Brax steps next to me. His tone is more curious than angry. "What the hell is this?"
"Your mentorship."
I step inside first.
He hesitates for all of two seconds, then comes after me.
The door seals shut with a hydraulic hiss behind him, cutting off the outside world.
The space is small, windowless, and cold. The concrete walls echo. The rubber floors only have a single steel chair bolted to the ground. And one lightbulb hangs overhead, barely bright enough to see.
He scans it all slowly. "You put a torture room inside my house?"
"It's a training room."
