I swallow, shaking my head.
“That’s unfortunate to hear. So, your father doesn’t have the money, and you don’t have the money. I could kill him and sell you—you’re very beautiful, I’m sure you’d get me twice the debt, but…” he shakes his head. “I invest in human trafficking, but I don’t participate in it. It’s a messy business, and the feds are all over it. So, Ember, what would you suggest I do?”
I glance at my dad. His breaths are shallow and short—he’s barely conscious—but he finds the strength to speak. “Please, leave her out of this. She’s a good girl—”
The man who pointed a gun at me—Bradley?—pistol-whips my father with such strength, he’s sent falling backwards. His chair crashes to the ground and splinters beneath his weight. He lets out a shout of pure agony. I lunge toward him, but the man grabs me by the throat,keeping me in place. I claw at his hand with my own, trying to escape the pressure, but it’s futile.
“Alternatively,” he says, his hot breath fanning my cheek, “I could acceptyouas payment.”
“Me?” I gasp.
“You,” he agrees. His eyes flick over to the entryway—I follow his line of sight, seeing the college letters.
“How many of those would you wager are acceptances?” he asks me suddenly.
I swallow. “I don’t gamble.”
He chuckles. “That makes you smarter than your father. Go on, Ember. Open them. Let’s see what you’re worth.”
He releases me as abruptly as he grabbed me. Full-body tremors wrack me as I force myself to stand on unsteady feet, curbing the urge to fall to my knees by my father and tend to him. Instead, I woodenly pick up the letters, rip open the first one, and unfold it.
The excitement that had previously gripped me at the prospect of getting into a college of my choice has disappeared, crushed beneath the weight of the scene before me. When I read the acceptance notice, with offer of a full-ride scholarship, I feel nothing but a faint sense of dread.
“Well?” the man prompts.
“Acceptance,” I say quietly. “With a full scholarship.”
The man turns to glare at my father. “And this is the daughter whose future you’ve robbed from her. You’re a poster child for birth control.” He looks back to me. “And the others?”
I go through them, one by one. All acceptance letters, all with at least a partial scholarship.
I’m a straight-A student. I aced my ACT and SAT scores, both with near perfection. My extracurricular activities include being a regionalpiano champion and national speech and debate champion. I did everything I could to buy myself a ticket out of this corner of the world.
“Well,” the man says when I’m done. “It would seem you’re a worthy investment, indeed. Cumulatively, you’re holding about three million dollars worth of scholarship money.” He looks at my dad. A cruel, evil smile slashes his face in half. “Congratulations, fuckup,” he says. “I think I’ve found a way for you to pay off your debt to me.”
And with that one line, all of my hopes, dreams, and aspirations go rushing down the drain.
Chapter Twelve
Ember
Max stops in front of a high-tech gate, manned byarmed guardson either side. That’s the first tip that whateverhomeis to him, it’s not a normal place. For a moment, I think it’s a government blacksite, but no. No, he wouldn’t be bringing me in like this—over his shoulder—if it were. I’d be facing a much different reality.
I don’t bother shouting or screaming when the gate soundlessly opens, or when Max continues carrying me down a paved road, heedless of my weight or his injuries. His movements are fluid, confident, and far calmer than I expect.
On either side of us are fields of grass wilting beneath the frost. When Max turns to survey his surroundings, I catch a brief glimpse of a cluster of buildings up ahead.
Abruptly, Max sets me on my feet. Immediately, my fight instincts kick in, but he’s expecting my hits. He catches both my wrists in his hands, fists my hair, and bares his teeth at me. “Bad move,” he hisses. “I’m already pissed. Don’t piss me off any more today, Ember. It willnotend well for you.” His jaw tightens. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Do you know where we are?”
I shake my head as much as his grip allows.
“You ever hear of the Nighthawks?” he questions.
My blood runs cold, and a swarm of angry wasps detonate in my chest.
Yes, I’ve heard of the Nighthawks;everyonehas. I thought they were a myth for several years, until Dagon sent me to kill one of them.
It was the hardest mission I’ve ever been sent on. I nearly died facing the man, and I nearly died again making my way back to Dagon, suffering from countless injuries.
