“I disagree. Medical told me Ember’s asleep; now’s the perfect time.” He jerks his chin. “Are you gonna let me in?”
“No.” I don’t like the idea of any man aside from me or a doctor being near Ember while she’s vulnerable. When she’s awake, I have no doubt she’ll be able to look after herself if shit goes down. Now, though…
“Cool. I’m pulling rank; let me in.”
“You’re an asshole,” I mutter, but step aside anyway. Greg lifts his head from the dog bed in the living room, releases a soft chuff of greeting, then lowers his head again and returns to snoozing. He’s probably the laziest dog I’ve ever met, aside from when he’s on duty.
“Have you gotten any sleep?” Greyson asks, walking inside and scanning the living area.
I shake my head. “Not since I brought her here.”
“That’s the first fuckup you need to fix,” Greyson comments. “Getting at least a few hours of sleep is what kept me sane through Scarlett’s bullshit when I first brought her back. Otherwise, I probably would’ve had even more fuckups than I already did.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, slowly and deliberately. “Greyson, you’re talking tomeabout your fuckups with Scarlett?” I’m the one he came to for advice on thedaily. “You’re lecturingmeon difficulties with Chosens?”
“Yup,” Greyson says. “I messed up and you helped me, but you’re not all-knowing. You understand dynamics like ones between us and Chosens theoretically, but not practically. Having Scarlett hasn’t been like having a girlfriend—it’s completely different, and at times, completely exhausting.”
“You’re really selling the whole chosen thing,” I mutter.
Greyson plops down on the couch. Greg takes that as his cue to wake up fully, pad over to Greyson, and give him puppy-eyes.
“Sorry, bud. I don’t have any treats,” Greyson says, reaching forward to scratch Greg’s head. “Having Scarlett is the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It literally saved me after losing Sam. But I’d be lying if I told you it’s not a fuckload of responsibility, andstressfulresponsibility. The whole dynamic of Chosens is built off the principle of having a human that relies on you for everything. It’s a power dynamic that will never be fully balanced—even with Scarlett, who runs our agriculture department with an iron fist and gets respect from the guys on account of actually saving this whole place and nearly dying for the trouble.”
“I have an assassin who’s killed multiple Nighthawks,” I say flatly. “I don’t think she’ll be in need of street cred.”
“Maybe not, but she’ll be in need of your protection nevertheless. We’re operating under the assumption that she killed at least two of the three guys sent to kill Dagon over the last five years, but possibly more,” Greyson says. “Some people might be angry about that.”
I scratch the back of my neck, frowning. He’s right, and I haven’t really considered that I might actually need to protect Ember from the people living in the fortress.Fuck.
“Cain wants to recruit her,” I say quietly. “I won’t let him put her in danger.”
Greyson meets my eyes. “He’s right in assessing that she’s a valuable resource—she is. She’s also potentially one of the deadliest people here, which is saying something. If she chooses to take Cain up on his offer of becoming a Nighthawk assassin and you put a stop to it, I can’t imagine she’d forgive you. The greenhouse is Scarlett’s purpose; it helps her maintain her sanity and gives her a break from me when she needs it. If she didn’t have that, I don’t know that she’d have settled here.”
My brows furrow, and I look down at my hands, examining them. He’s right; Emberdoesneed a purpose here, but I don’t want that purpose to put her life in danger.
I need to find something safer to occupy her. I also need to figure out what she’s keeping from me—what leverage Dagon has on her—so I can fix it and ensure her focus lies squarely on me.
“What’s your approach to training?” Greyson asks, switching gears.
I wince. “Haven’t made a plan yet.”
Greyson raises his eyebrows. “Really, Max? After all your talk, pushing me to make a concrete plan with Scarlett, you haven’t made a plan for Ember?”
“I’ve been a bit busy avoiding her attempts on my life. Which, by the way, are fuckingconstant.” And reluctantly impressive.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. It’s my work phone, which means that either a prospective client or one of my contacts is calling me. It’s poor form to ignore it.
“Hold on,” I say to Greyson, pulling it out of my pocket.Unknown number. Squinting, I swipe to pick up and hold it to my ear.
“Yeah?”
A long, meaningful pause raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Somehow, I know who’s calling even before I hear his familiar, chillingly cool voice. “Maximus of the Nighthawks, I presume.”
How the fuck does Dagon know who I am?
Probably because he has his own connections in the world of organized crime and assassins. He’s uniquely stationed to get a whole lot of information that’s otherwise completely unavailable to the public.
Anger, fear, and uncertainty balloon in my chest until I feel like I’m going to explode. Dagon destroyedmyEmber, and now, he has the gall to fuckingcall me?
