“No,” Max says calmly. “Anytime I let her speak, she sasses, bitches, and threatens. She just crashed my car, so I’m not in a charitable mood.”
I give him a glare that silently transmits,you fucking deserved it.He catches my eyes, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t smile or crack a joke.
I really have pushed him to the end of his rope.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me you were bringing your chosen here?” Greyson snaps. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”
“Figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Max jerks his head at me. “We have history. It’s complicated.”
Except, whatever history he speaks of is voided by the fact that I don’t remember him. I know Max as the guy who kidnapped me, spanked me, knocked me out more than once, and is puttingherindanger without even knowing it. All of this means that I need to find a way to kill him and escape.
Greyson pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it. “Cain is on his way down here,” he says. “Put her in the annex, in one of the interrogation rooms—”
“No,” Max snarls. “She’s not a prisoner, she’smine.”
Greyson pockets his phone, giving Max a flat stare. “Are you forgetting what Chosens are? Until she passes trials and accepts you, sheisa prisoner.Yourprisoner, your captive prize. We need her away from chaos for a thorough debrief. Nobody’s going to lay a hand on her but you.”
Max glares at Greyson for several beats. I absorb every bit of information that’s slipping out—the chosen rumor isn’t a rumor, but a reality. The Nighthawks have stooped to the new low of capturing women to keep, probably because their men have neither the charm or the skills needed to acquire fuck-buddies.
Apparently, chosens have to go through some sort of trials, and then their status changes from prisoner to… what? Permanent resident? Nighthawk?
I nearly laugh. They should be so fucking lucky to have me working for them.
“Your word,” Max says. “Your word that nobody lays a finger on her.”
“You have it,” Greyson agrees easily. “At least,Iwon’t, and Cain… probably won’t. He’s less likely to if we stick to protocol, anyways. Get her to the annex. Put her in one of the nicer cells. I’m going to get Tobias to dig up everything there is to find on her, talk to Cain, and look at next steps.” He pauses. “Next time, a heads up wouldn’t be amiss.”
“There will be no next time.” Max stares hard at me. “I’ve found my future in my past.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ember
The cell I’m put in is more comfortable than the dungeons Dagon threw me into to get tortured, so I don’t complain. I’m ungagged, but my wrists remain tied behind my back. Max doesn’t say a single word to me, and I don’t speak to him, either. I’m firmly in data-gathering mode.
He leaves me tied in a metal chair, in a holding room made up of four concrete blocks for walls, a shitty cot in the corner, and a metal table outfitted for chains in front of me.
I take the alone time to think over what I’ve picked up on and try my best not to let my thoughts wander toher. I try to assure myself that Dagon won’t kill her because she’s the only leverage he has on me, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking of all the ways he can hurt her.
I don’t know how long I spend alone, but I’d estimate it’s over an hour, though under a day. When the metal door to my cell creaks open, Greyson walks inside. He’s holding a laptop in his hand. He looks completely uninterested in my existence, which automatically eases the worst of my worries. He doesn’t leer at me or ogle me which, at the very least, makes him better than Dagon’s soldiers.
“Ember Sands,” he says. He pulls out the metal chair across the table from me, sits down, and sets his laptop in front of him, opening it up.
“Greyson something,” I respond, forcing a yawn. “How may I help?”
“Serve Max and do it well,” he responds automatically. “And let him serve you.”
I arch an imperious eyebrow, staring at him.
“Your life is well-documented up until you turned eighteen,” Greyson says. “Then, you disappeared, with only a few well-buried links connecting you to Dagon.” He cocks his head to the side. “Care to explain?”
What’s the harm?“Dagon took me to pay off a debt my father owed him. It was a rough few years.”
“I see.” Greyson clicks around on the computer. “You’re twenty-three years old?”
“So, he can do math as well as ask boring questions.” I examine the wall, exuding sheer boredom. “Any other party tricks up your sleeves?”
“See that glass in the wall?” Greyson asks, motioning to the one-way mirror in the side of the room. “Two men are on the other side of it. Our leader, Cain, and the third in command, Max. Who is now your owner.”
