Page 196 of Damsel in Disguise

One second, he’s standing there, the next, his fist crashes across my jaw. “You motherfucking son of a bastard.”

The impact is violent enough to send my head snapping sideways that I stagger back.

Thankfully, the iPad is still clutched in my hand. But the voice-distortion mask tears free and skids across the stone floor.

Pain explodes across my face.

Then Asher’s eyes meet mine. “That felt unexpectedly too good,” he smirks before it falls. “Alistair?”

With that, every trace of uncertainty disappears.

Saw that coming.

I throw up my hands with a smile. “Well,” blood gathers along the inside of my lip. “That could’ve gone worse,” and spit out the blood aside.

“You think this is funny?”

He’s already moving before I fully recover, but I manage to catch his fist inches away from my face.

For half a second, we remain locked there.

Strength against strength.

Neither giving an inch.

That only seems to piss him off more.

His free hand disappears beneath his jacket.

Metal flashes. Then the suppressor is suddenly pressed against my forehead. The safety is already off.

His finger brushes against the trigger with alarming familiarity.

“Was expecting the gun before the punch.”

Something dangerous flickers across his face that isn’t directed at Triarch Dominion, or Project Garden—the Synthètes, or even the information now carelessly left aside.

It’s directed at me.

“Fuck your Triarch Dominion. You’ve been using Ariella this entire time,” he growls. “You hacked into her phone and fed us lies while she was fighting for her life,” he states his point and fires a warning shot.

The bullet blows right past my ear. A drop of warm liquid slides down the shell of my ear, but I don’t react. The minor cut is nothing compared to what I need him to do.

“Never did,” the answer comes immediately.

He scoffs in disdain. “Stop denying,” and presses the sizzling barrel on my forehead.

“Do you really think I’d be standing here if Ariella was nothing more than expendable to me?”

“Say that again, and I swear to fucking god I’m blowing your brains this time.”

“If she was, you won’t even be getting this second chance to point that gun at me because none of this conversation would be happening,” I say, calmer now.

“The only reason you’re holding that information at all,” my gaze flicks at the now abandoned iPad between us, “is because I want her to stay just as she is.”

Uncertainty flickers behind his anger only for a moment. Then it’s gone. That’s the first crack.

“I never wanted her involved. But wanting something and preventing it aren’t always the same thing,” the admission leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.