“Karson?” Maverick says sharply.
I don’t respond. I just end the call.
We turn down a dirt road, and the warehouse lights come into view in the distance.
Tristan isn't just a problem. He’s the only person who might have answers.
Entering the warehouse, we move through the halls that still hold the faint scent of Owen’s blood. I inhale deeply as it wraps around each one of my nerve endings, and fuels my already murderous mood. We step into the same room. Nick and Elias sit in metal chairs. Elias taps away on his phone, and Nick watches Tristan struggle with his bindings. Both look up as we enter the space.
“Where’s Cole?” Maverick asks.
“Said he had some things he needed to take care of,” Elias shrugs. “I can’t keep up with that one sometimes. He said he’d be back.”
My head tips to the side slightly as I watch Tristan. He continues his struggle for a moment before realization hits him, and he slowly looks up. His gaze bounces around the room, landing on Nick, then Elias, then Maverick before settling on me. He straightens and lifts his chin.
“Let me go. Right now,” he says confidently.
The laugh that I let out is chilling, a mixture of amusement and fury. He bristles in his seat briefly.
“That’s not going to happen. Look around, Tristan. Get comfortable. This will be your tomb.”
I grab the chair Elias was sitting in, and drag it to the center of the room. The chair legs scrape to a stop at Tristan’s feet. Spinning it around, I straddle it and lean forward slightly, resting my forearms across the back of it.
Up close, he looks worse than Cole described. One eye nearly swollen shut. Blood crusted along multiple cuts around his hairline. His lips are split where they met the windshield, and no doubt a broken nose.
He shifts in the chair, trying to regain some sense of control, but the ropes digging into his wrists make it difficult.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
I tilt my head. “Am I?”
His jaw ticks.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Maverick lets out a quick chuckle behind me. “That’s pretty funny.”
Nick leans back in his chair, arms folded. “Go on, please,” he says. “We’re all enjoying this.”
Tristan’s gaze snaps back to me. “This doesn't involve you,” he snaps. “This is between me and her.”
My fingers tighten around the metal back of the chair.
“Her.” The word comes out slow. “You mean the woman you drugged, kidnapped and tried to drag across state lines?”
His lips curl into a smile.
“I didn't kidnap her.”
Silence falls over the room. Elias stops typing and pockets his phone. Nick straightens in his chair. Maverick’s weight shifts.
I lean forward a little more.
“You put a needle in her neck.”
Tristan shrugs. “She was coming with me either way.”
Something dark slides into my chest.
