I’m not worried about telling Jonah this. After all, Striker has me. And it’s up to Jonah whether or not he believes me.
Jonah grants me a smile before turning back to Striker, a hint of respect entering his voice. “You truly came alone.”
“I gave my word,” Striker replies.
“I’m impressed, hellhound.” Jonah leans back in his chair, folding his big arms across his chest. “Then I will ask for your word once more and expect you to keep it. Meet Vanguard at midnight tomorrow night, at the center of the Great Lawn inCentral Park. Bring the Legion Master. Nobody else. Do this, and Vanguard will speak with you. Until then, there will be a truce. Do you agree?”
“I agree,” Striker says.
Idon’t.
Striker hasn’t asked for any assurances in return. He could walk into a battlefield. My recent trip to Central Park showed me that the Great Lawn is a wide-open space. Sure, it’s easier to see your enemies coming, but the surrounding trees would also make it easy for an army of combatants to surround the space.
Vanguard could speak with Striker and keep his part of the bargain, all while his forces converge. No guarantees have been given that Striker won’t be attacked immediately after the meeting ends.
Of course, with Slade Baines at his side, maybe Striker thinks it’s worth the risk. Slade has wings and the power of invisibility. He could get Striker out of there.
Unless Vanguard plans an aerial attack, too…
Even as my thoughts move at a thousand miles an hour—a heartbeat to work through all the dangers—I know that Striker is smart. He will have thought all of this through already, but it worries me that he has so quickly agreed without being more protective of himself.
I try to shake off my concern, try to remind myself that worry born out of past connections is no longer a burden I need to bear. My sisters are my family now, and they are all I need to care about…
But Striker is moving as if he’s about to stand and?—
Fuck it.
I allow my claws to extend and tap them loudly on the table, drawing Jonah’s immediate attention.
“Fury?” he asks.
“Vanguard will also come alone,” I say, not a question but a command. “You, of course, may be the exception and attend with him.”
Striker’s emotions are suddenly not so calm. His worry hits me, but it isn’t concern for himself.
It’s for me.
I raise my eyes to his and speak firmly. “Don’t be.”
Don’t be worried.
His lips part, and then the smallest smile touches them, telling me he interpreted my firm statement correctly.
To Jonah, I say, “I will also attend. I, too, wish to speak with Vanguard. He can either grant me a conversation, or I will hunt him down and force him to speak with me. It’s his choice.”
Jonah blows out an exhale, considering me more warily now. “For what purpose do you wish to speak with him?”
“My purpose is my own,” I say. “But to be clear, it’s wholly unconnected to whatever business Striker Draven wishes to discuss with him. Striker and Vanguard will speak first. I will wait for my turn.”
Jonah leans forward, the lighter gripped in his right hand, the furrow in his brow increasing, although his intensifying gaze is pinpointed on his lighter. He clicks it open, revealing the flame, the small heat seeming to make his eyes gleam before he snaps its lid closed again.
No doubt, he has just considered the advantages and disadvantages of my presence at the meeting, a large advantage being that if I want to speak with Vanguard, I will have to ensure that the conversation between him and Striker is a peaceful one. After all, I can’t speak with a dead man.
“Very well.” Jonah raises his gaze to mine. “I’m certain Vanguard will look forward to speaking with you, Fury.”
“Good,” I say.
Jonah rises from his seat, a silent but strong indication that it’s time for us to leave.
