He clicks the screen, scans my face, then throws it at White Mask, who leaves the room with it. For a fraction of a second, I consider screaming into the hallway. But my voice won’t make it far enough for anyone to hear. And I will only anger the beast in front of me, who seems to be daring me to breathe wrong with his cold eyes, his handstillon my waist.
The door shuts closed, leaving me alone with Mason Grant.
“We’re borrowing your phone.” He lets me go and walks away.
“I thought you already did that.” I bend down to collect my belongings from the floor. “Or did hacking my phone not give you the access you needed?”
“Well, we have it now, pretty face.” His lips curl up in a crooked smile. He perches on the edge of the table and pours himself a glass of whiskey. “We’ll have all the access we need now.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re wasting your time. You’re not going to find anything on there. I’m not that important an Etheridge.”
“We’ll see.” He lifts a shoulder.
“If that’s all you need, you can keep it.” My hand slices the air. “I’m leaving,” I declare. But my feet don’t move. Can’t. He’s holding me down with his glare. Again.
There’s something about the way he stares at me that sends snakes slithering down my spine. It’s like he sees me and instantly hates me. Like my mere existence is an insult to him. Like he’s granting me mercy by letting me breathe.
He doesn’t say a word. Just gives me a slow up-and-down as he sips his drink. Not like he’s checking me out, more like a butcher sizing up a carcass—cold, clinical, curious.
“You seem to be under the misconception that you still have free will, Miss Etheridge,” he finally says, his voice steel over ice. “Allow me to clarify. You lost your freedom the moment you set foot in our town. In Fort, Iownyou.”
I have to bite my tongue and remind myself who I’m dealing with. I have only been here a few days, but I’ve heard enough to know pissing off Mason Grant is a mistake.
In this town, Grant word is law.
His father is the leader of the Fort Council, a coalition of Fort families that includes all the major businesses and farms with absolute dominance in a hundred-mile radius. Here, nothing moves without their nod. So, the fact that this psycho thinks he owns every person who breathes here too, is not that far-fetched. A delusion that can wait to be broken another day. When I have my security between us, and he can’t hope to get his hands on me.
But for now, I must focus on one thing—getting out of here or waiting for Jack to find me, whichever comes earlier.
“What exactly do you want from me?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
“What I want,” he drawls, twirling his drink, “is you out of Fort. But since you’re staying, I’ll settle for your fealty.”
“Fealty?” A giggle escapes my lips. “Do you want me to take an oath, or is there a Grant anthem I need to memorize?”
The crystal glass pauses mid-twirl, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and I regret my words immediately. His feral gaze lifts to meet mine, burning a hole in my face, then he speaks with unmistakable authority.
“Dance for me.”
Um-what?
Is this some power tactic? Or does he actually expect me tofollow his orders? I gawk at him, my jaw on the floor. The only movement is the swallow that works down my throat when I finally remember how to close my mouth.
“I’m not a doll. I don’t dance on command,” I finally muster.
“The fuck you don’t.” He snorts. “You had no problem dancing for the London fucks circling you for a piece of Etheridge.”
“I wasn’t dancing for them,” I snap. “Andtheyweren’t barbarians.”
I was hoping my words would sting. But instead, he grins. His fingers click something on the table, and music starts blasting from invisible speakers. My body turns cold, frozen where I stand.
“Of course, where are my manners?” He shrugs.
In a single beat, he drains his glass, then slams it down and pushes off the table. I take two steps back as he marches toward me, but he seizes my wrist and draws me into him, my free hand slapping against his hard chest. With a callous arm wrapped around my waist, he starts swaying me. Making me dance to his beat.
Literally.
I suffocate in his tight hold, trying to shove him off to gain some distance, but I may as well be trying to move a wall. Amused, sardonic, his molten brown eyes bask in my failed attempts to free myself, just giving me enough space to twist in his iron grip.
