They’re getting closer.
The thought flashes through me so fast I nearly choke on it, so I bury it instantly.
Cole paces once across the room, glancing at his phone again before shoving it back into his pocket. “Fucking hell.”
“Something wrong?” I shoot back before I can really think about what I’m saying.
His gaze cuts to me, and here’s a beat where I wonder if I just made a terrible choice. Then he smiles.
“You’re still talking,” he says.
“I’ve always been told it’s one of my strengths.”
That gets me a look.
Good.
I want his attention on my face. My mouth. My expression. Anything except my wrists, which are currently one small miracle and a lot of skin damage away from being useful.
He takes a few steps closer, then turns away again, pacing another line across the room.
That restlessness is still there, the irritation, the tiny, delicious possibility that he’s not as in control as he wants to be.
“You know,” he says, almost casually, “this wasn’t supposed to take this long.”
I blink at him. “No?”
“Things get complicated,” he says, “when people stop behaving the way they’re supposed to.”
I tilt my head. “That must be hard for you.”
His eyes sharpen. “Your Ryder’s always had that problem.”
I hope that if I can keep him talking, I can work on freeing my wrist without him noticing. If I can wind him up, even better. Anything to keep him distracted.
“You talk about him like you know him,” I say. “Do you? Really?”
“I do.”
“Really?” I ask. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds less like knowledge and more like you’re still trying to win an argument he’s already left.”
He turns toward me slowly, like he’s deciding whether I’ve earned honesty or punishment. Possibly both. “We used to be family.”
I keep my face neutral, my breathing rhythmic, while behind my back my fingers twist again, testing the loosened edge of the tie.
Pain flashes white.
I don’t make a sound.
“He trusted me,” Cole continues. “I handled things for him. Things he didn’t want to touch directly. Things that kept the machine running.” He pauses. “I was useful.”
That lands somewhere deep, because I know that word. I know what it does to people when it becomes the only way they believe they’re allowed to matter.
Zane’s face flashes through my head for one dangerous second, and I have to force myself back into the room.
Cole’s still watching me, still talking.
So I say the thing that feels true. “He didn’t leave you behind.”
