Blaze opens the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Whatever happens tonight, remember who you are. You stopped being Anton’s property a long time ago.”
I fill my lungs to the brim, then exhale sharply and follow Blaze out of the room. He stays close as we navigate the corridors and descend the spiral staircase. I whisper my mantra in time with my heel clicks.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
Octavius waits outside, eyes scanning the driveway where a long black limo is parked, flanked on both ends by two SUVs. He looks exactly as he did at lunch. Sharp, navy suit, silver cufflinks, and a faint curl of disdain on his mouth.
His bodyguards sit in one of the SUVs, Jax and some other goon of Blaze’s in the other, windows rolled down.
He barely glances at us as we emerge from the house. “Let’s go,” he says, and the limo driver opens the back door on cue.
Octavius slides in first. I take the seat opposite, my fingers curled tight around the clutch purse in my lap.
Blaze sits beside me, his shoulders relaxed as the limo starts down the driveway. Only the low hum of the engine and my own breaths interrupt the tense silence.
I can feel Octavius’s gaze sliding down my frame, and my heart picks up pace. What if he notices the knife? I shift, pushing my clutch directly over the holster.
“I see Blaze has taught you how to keep your mouth shut,” he says. “Your style’s changed, too.” His attention ping-pongs to Blaze. “What brought that on? Couldn’t stand looking at a grown woman dressed like a child?”
“It was... disturbing to my staff,” he admits, fabricating a reason for my updated wardrobe on the spot. “Turns out some men in my crew share your brother’s fantasies, though in a less chaste way.” He tilts his head.
Octavius snarls. “Sickening.”
“Quite,” Blaze agrees. “A change of wardrobe stopped their drool staining my carpets.”
He hums, fingertips tapping against the leather seat in a calm, infuriating rhythm. “I wonder what Anton would say about how his little doll changed...”
A cold chain snaps around my throat.
I’m pretty sure my face is snow-white right now, but it pales further when Blaze’s head lifts slightly beside me, signaling interest to Octavius and alarm to me.
Octavius smirks. “He’s become an impeccable soldier since I took you. Dedicated. Obedient... but a man like him needs a reminder of what’s at stake.” He slides a phone from his jacket pocket, swiping the screen with his thumb. “A quick chat should keep him motivated to impress me enough that he can get you back faster.”
My fingers go numb. Ryder only blocked Anton’s calls to Octavius, not the reverse.
We haven’t planned for this.
My knees start shaking. I pinch them together, simultaneously trying to stifle the growing panic in my chest.
“Maybe wait until he’s done with tonight’s task,” Blaze suggests. “Let him focus.”
“Oh, I think he’ll focus more when he sees his little girl being corrupted. He’ll do anything to get her back sooner.”
He taps the screen, and my pulse roars so loud it’s all I can hear. I’m not far from throwing up.
Please don’t connect.
Please don’t connect.
Please don’t connect.
Octavius frowns, glancing at the screen when the telltale sound of a failed call fills the limo.
Blaze exhales so quietly I almost miss it, and relief rattles through me like an avalanche. I unclench my slick palms.
“He must be out of range.” Octavius slides the phone back into his pocket. “I’ll try later.”
My heartrate doesn’t slow until the limo does. I’d expected to pull up outside a luxurious space designed to handle fine art and antique auctions. But instead, the limo parks by an abandoned club. The sign above the main entrance is dark, faded, paintpeeling at the corners, but a red carpet stretches across the pavement, and two bodyguards stand at the door.
