“Yup.”
“Cain’s going to let it happen. He doesn’t care if Ember lives or dies.”
“Christ, I fuckingknow!” I snap. “That’s what’s been going through my mind onrepeatfor the last several hours!”
“So, you need to be prepped to pitch Cain anextremelygood idea,” Grey says slowly. “Otherwise, Ember’s gone. Permanently.”
“I. Fucking. Know,” I hiss.
“Greyson! Maximus!” Cain shouts.
I sigh, eyes fluttering.Time to pay the piper.
In the office, I see that Cain’s phone is ringing.
“Sit, and shut up. If I hear you breathe, I’ll put a bullet in your heads.” Cain picks up the phone.
Silence stretches, thick and loaded with words unsaid. I canfeelDagon’s amusement on the other end of the line, and I canseeCain slowly starting to lose his mind.
“Cain,” Dagon says after a long, weighted pause. “I’m sure you know by now that I’ve collected something of yours.”
“I’m quite aware.” Cain’s tone is impressively flat and composed. No hint of aggression or the crazed fervor I’ve heard from him since he called us up. His mask is perfectly in place, so much so that one could wonder if he gives a fuck about Azalea at all. “I’m also impressed you went through the effort.”
“The things we do for love,” Dagon volleys back. “I’m going to offer you a trade. One-time. Take it or leave it,right now.”
Love?Love?Dagon thinks helovesEmber? He came close to fuckingdestroyingher!
“Azalea for Viper,” Cain says.
“Correct.”
“Done.”
My heart tightens and pain spreads through my chest, infecting every corner of my soul, of my verybeing.
Greyson meets my eyes. He lifts a hand and an eyebrow at the same time, warning me to remain calm. If I launch myself across the table and wrap my hands around Cain’s neck right now, it won’t mean anything good for me or Ember… or the Nighthawks as a whole.
So, I keep myself in place, and try to formulate a plan.
“How does tomorrow night sound?” Dagon queries pleasantly. “I’ll set the time and location.”
Cain mulls this over. “I set the time, you set the location. Since we’re about to do some business together, we should compromise a bit, shouldn’t we?”
Dagon releases a rough, unpleasant chuckle that sends a million invisible spiders skittering up my spine.
“You’re a funny man,” he says. “A very funny man.” His tone hardens. “I am in possession of something precious to you. If you don’t do exactly what I say, I’ll have my men torture hermore than they already are. Then, they’ll fuck every hole in her body—and make some new ones along the way. By the time you get her back, she’ll be unrecognizable. You won’twanther.”
I watch, horrified, nauseous, and vaguely enthralled as all the color drains from Cain’s face, and genuine fear swims in his eyes.
He’s always struck us as invulnerable—even when he offhandedly mentioned his Chosen, there was rarely any real emotion to back it.
Now, however, he’s extremely vulnerable. He looks remarkably, offputtinglyhuman. I don’t know which version of him I prefer.
“I choose the time and place. You arrive with Ember in hand, ready to give her over. You donotinvite the scum that’s been doing god-knows-what to her to the trade. You come unarmed andunarmored. Or I will devise new methods of torture for your precious chemist.” He hangs up.
Cain looks like he might throw up for a moment. Then, he inhales a deep breath, and everything changes.
His blank, typical demeanor falls over his face. His posture straightens. In a blink, none of the horror previously evident on his face is anywhere to be seen.
