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“I think you’re performing for his camera, in his dungeon, with his men keeping me in this chair.”

I glanced toward the lens.

“There you go, lads. Meet Isabeast.”

Ciro laughed.

Isabeast’s head whipped to the guard at the door.

He looked down too late to hide the smirk.

Heat rushed into her face. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She looked at Ciro next. He was still smiling. Her jaw clenched.

Being hated didn’t bother Isabeast.

Being laughed at did.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Bit late for that. Seems to be catching on.”

Her palm cracked across my cheek.

My head snapped sideways, and the cut opened again. Blood warmed my jaw.

Every eye in the room stayed on the two of us.

Exactly where I needed them.

She caught my chin and forced me back toward the camera.

“Look at the camera,” she hissed. “Let your brother see what happens when a man forgets who owns him.”

I met the lens.

“You’re still confusing restraints with control.”

“You were stupid enough to trust me.”

“Aye. Once.”

My eyes dropped deliberately to the wound on her lip.

“Hasn’t gone nearly as well for you since.”

She slid one hand down my chest.

“When Ciro finishes with this negotiation, Lachlan stays with me.”

Ciro’s smile faded.

She either didn’t notice or was too wound up to care and kept talking.

“I’ll take him somewhere private,” she continued. “Somewhere his precious Syndicate will never find him. Mateo and my men will make certain no one interferes.”

Ciro looked at Mateo.

“Your men?”