I don’t want to. Every cell in my body rebels against it.
But Chase’s grip tightens, and I think about his threat—about what he could do to them, to me, if I don’t comply. About the Syndicate’s reach and my father’s ambitions and all the ways this could go wrong.
So I lift my free hand.
I wave.
I watch something shatter in Dredyn’s eyes from fifty yards away.
Then, Chase is guiding me up the library steps, and I’m letting him, and I hate myself for it. Hate the smile plastered on my face. Hate the way my body moves when he directs it, years of compliance training overriding every scream of protest in my mind.
At the library entrance, he finally releases me.
“You did well. Keep doing well, Mara, and everyone stays safe. Your boys, your reputation, your future. Play smart,” he says, like he’s praising a dog.
He presses a kiss to my temple and then he’s walking away, down the steps, pulling out his phone like he’s already moved on to more important things.
I stand there, shaking, watching him go.
When I finally turn back toward where the OCK boys were standing, they’re gone.
But I know they saw.
I know they saw me smile and wave and let Chase Harrington put his hands on me like I belonged to him.
And I know, with sick certainty, that everything just got infinitely more complicated.
I go back to my dorm, lock the door, and sit on the floor with my back against it, trying to breathe through the panic clawing up my throat.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown:
We need to talk. Tonight. The basement. Midnight. Come alone.
Unknown:
This is Dredyn. Don’t bring your fucking boyfriend.
I stare at the message until my vision blurs.
Boyfriend.
That’s not what Chase is. Not yet. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it.
But the way Dredyn wrote it tells me he already sees it as inevitable.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I’ve been fooling myself thinking I have any choice in this.
I type and delete five different responses before finally settling on:
Me:
I’ll be there.
His response is immediate.
