“There is absolutely nothing good about this morning.”
His awareness skimmed her again, intimate and invasive, and he almost smiled. “You’re extremely hungover.”
Audrey wanted to spit on him. She cut to the chase. “You broke your word. Felix is dead. Why trust you about Cary?”
“I never promised you anything about that guard,” he said. “And I don’t need your trust. As I’ve said before, you’re a liability. You’re alive because I’m out of options.”
Anger sparked, but she used it.
She struck.
Her mind ripped through his defenses, ruthless and direct. Strength surged; she was stronger than ever—spurred by the need to protect her sister and prove her own capability.
His reaction was instant. Ryker grasped her jacket and dragged her until their chests nearly collided. “What did I say before? Don’t you fucking dare do that again.”
She bared her teeth.
His grip shifted from collar to throat. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”
Two weeks ago, Audrey would have balked at his closeness and predatory touch. But now, her heart rate steadied. “You won’t.”
His hold on her stiffened. “Oh?”
“You need me. I’m a gold triad, and you have no replacement.”
“Don’t confuse necessity for protection. Don’t mistake leverage for loyalty.”
“What do you mean?”
“One more gold triad changes the board,” he said, moving his fingers in slow circles over her skin. “It doesn’t win the game.”
“I’m not a game piece to be moved around. I don’t bow to anyone.”
“I don’t need obedience.” His eyes focused on hers. “I need someone who can keep up.”
She scrutinized him.
Ryker wasn’t simply dangerous; he was the smartest person in the room. Which meant he was more complicated than she first believed. She needed to understand his motivations—her own survival and the chance to save her sister depended on decoding his intentions and coordinating her own strategy with them.
Ryker released her and stepped back, still watching. “You’re changing,” he murmured.
“So are you,” she replied, and she meant it. He was remaking his plans for her, something she surmised he rarely did.
His brows shot up. “You think you can outgrow me?”
“No.” She glared at him. “I think I can outlast you.”
He became still, then smiled. “Good,” he said. “You feel it.”
She didn’t ask what he meant; she already knew.
Felix creaked behind them. “How long will you leave him up there?” she asked.
“Until I’m done with him.”
He didn’t look at the body, only at her. Then—without warning—he pulled folded papers from his coat and held them out for her, waiting.
Audrey didn’t move, didn’t blink.
