Probably?
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Well, that’s simple, sweetheart. I only have one question.” He reaches out, running a fingertip up my arm, then checks that the knots are holding.
I know they are, and I’m trying to ignore the tingle in my skin from that single light touch. “Ask it then, damn it.”
But Declan won’t be rushed. The way he examines the rope seems to suggest they’re not coming off soon, like either he doesn’t expect me to answer him, or it won’t make any difference if I do. He shifts the ropes on my wrist, checks that they can move without coming loose, then steps back at last, satisfied.
“What’s the package?” he asks, tone light, like he doesn’t really care.
“What package?” I don’t even think, it just slips out. No one’s mentioned any ‘package’ to me.
Declan slaps my face. It’s not hard, it’s not even particularly painful. It’s more of a shock than anything. A warm-up. Like the time he slapped me before, when I was tied up in his bed. “Don’t play dumb, Raven.”
I rub my cheek against my arm, glaring at him. “What. Fucking.Package.”
“The one Kurt gave you from the vault. The one that’s more important to him than all the diamonds. The one that was entrusted to you. The one no one else knows about.”
Oh.Thatpackage.
The little black box, sitting in my jacket just behind him.
Except I can’t believe he hasn’t already found it. He must’ve found the diamonds. Surely he went through my pockets?
And I don’t like this game. Fuck him. I don’t feel like playing ball.
“That’s between me and Kurt.” He doesn’t get anything off me. Not like this, notforced. Hell, I might’ve told him if he’d just asked nicely.
Yet I wouldn’t. Kurt told me not to trust him; now I know why.
“No, it’s between me and you. Kurt’s not here.” Declan grips my chin, lifting my face to his. I try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig in harder. “It’s only one question, Raven,” he says, almost gentle. “What’s the package?”
He has my jacket. I know he’s found the box and has discovered what it is: a hardware wallet locked with a PIN.
That’s not what he’s asking.
He thinks I can open it, and I’ve already looked inside. He wants an answer in numbers.
He wants Kurt’s millions.
Or maybe he’s asking what it’s for, whatpurpose Kurt has for it… beyond a private yacht somewhere.
A reasonable question. Kurt doesn’t strike me as a man motivated purely by wealth.
Either way, I’m nothing more than a tool for Declan to get what he wants. The ‘package’ is his goal, not me.
It probably always was.
I see myself clearly now: Declan’s in to the crew. Declan’s tool. A path to Declan’sgoal.
Is that all this is to him? AllIam to him?
I’ve been here before: used, disposable. I swore I’d never let it happen again. For some reason, I thought Declan was different. He’s not. For all his irresistible charisma, he’sworse.
Yet I’m still responding to him.
Do I hate myself more than him right now? I can’t tell; it’s that close.
