The captain. Not Christopher. Miya let Zayne see she wasn't comfortable with any of them or this situation.
“Christopher answers to the Phaedra, and the Phaedra sent me.” Zayne took one step forward.
Miya's breathing fell shallower. “I work for a company called Rafferty. A few of our clients are interested in acquiring Krowe's estate. When Captain Garrison came, I offered our services to him.”
“Why?”
She had the same look as every person who ever stared down the barrel of his gun. “I want to live.”
Miya didn't seem honest for one second since entering the room, but this was the truth. She was trying to survive a war zone. Whether she really worked for this company or the United, he wasn't sure, but he trusted at least this one thing she said.
“Okay,” Zayne said. It was enough.
“Don't you have more questions?”
He crossed his arms. “I'll ask Christopher my questions. That's all I needed from you.”
Miya's body untensed, though her stare remained sharp. “I'd love to know how you got two of those—” she nodded at his seals before raising her brows at the solitary band around his arm. “—before getting two of those.”
More fact-finding. Her survival instincts were good.
When Zayne made lieutenant, he'd get a band around his other arm. It was a matter of time, but she was right about it being strange, and that provided her with information too. That his authority far outweighed his rank and age.
“That's what happens when you're the son of the High General. You get your double seal before your officer's band.” Christopher entered the doorway, grinning. “We've got royalty in our presence.”
Zayne didn't gift him with a response, but Brock's nostrils widened.
“Or when you keep your mouth shut in the North,” his friend said.
“Don't,” Zayne breathed.
Miya's skilled composure faltered, and she leaned back on her heels toward the door, likely a subconscious reflex to find an escape. Now he saw recognition in her eyes. People may not immediately realize who Zayne was, but he took after his father too much to miss the resemblance once they knew to look.
“Lighten up,” Christopher said. “I'm joking. Royalty and a war hero, no less. Didn't I tell you our guests were highly esteemed?” He waltzed over to them and hung his arm around Miya's shoulders. “Good to see you, boys. Did Miya welcome you warmly?”
“Quite,” Zayne said without pretending to smile.
Christopher tilted her chin up to him and kissed her slowly. “Good, girl.”
So, it was a power play. Pathetic.
When they sat on the couches, Christopher wore Miya like a crown, holding her close against him with a hand resting high up her thigh. Did he not realize he was disgusting, or did he just not care?
“I didn't want to share this on paper. I've created a bridge to Bale.” He grabbed one of the fingers of Miya's glove and pulled it free, revealing the black tattoo on her ring finger. And bruising along her wrist and forearm. “He loves his whores.”
Miya didn't flinch at Christopher's treatment of her, but Brock did. His hold on his drink tightened and rattled his ice. Zayne kept his breathing even, preparing himself for however much worse Christopher wanted to make this before the evening ended. Quiet rage simmered beneath Zayne's unchanging veneer.
“There's this poor kid Bale sent to Krowe's,” Christopher said. “You read about him?”
“Yes.” His vision fixated on the motherfucker's face, tunneling on his sneer.
“The fool practically drools all over Miya.” He laughed. “He'll take her back to Bale as a gift, and she'll make contact for us. No one will think anything of a servant and a whore.”
“Clever plan,” Zayne said. “You think Bale will agree to your offer?”
“I do. Miya's people will be there as back-up to force his hand if not. I'd prefer a less obvious approach, however.” He pushed her hair back, hand lost in the curls and studied her face. “So, no failure.”
The menace in Christopher's eyes ignited the air in the room, but Miya didn't cower. “No failure.” She looked right at him while he threatened her.Bold. “I'm ready.”
