Текст книги "Backs Against the Wall"

Автор книги: Tracey Ward

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“To where?” I ask feeling frustrated. “What is this? Who’s there? I’ve never heard of anywhere being Risen free, nowhere real. It’s all myth.”

“It is a place like no other. One must only believe, to have faith in—“

“Crenshaw, what is it?” I snap, exasperated.

My patience for this conversation has died. I care about this guy, I really do, but I’m already pushed to my limits with everything else going on and now talking about the Colonies, being scolded for not getting better intel while I was in prison… I’m spent. I’m riddled with guilt and this ring pinching at my finger, growing tighter every single day, is dragging me down to the ground. I need answers. Real ones, not fairytales that will send me on adventures or journeys to strange mystical lands where I’m meant to ask for help from the fairies or the centaurs. If this is all the help he has, some slice of land in the south where he thinks he saw an angel once, then I have to get real and go to The Hive.

He looks at me in surprise, his eyes narrowing. “It is rude to interrupt, child. I thought you better than this.”

“Well, I’m not. This has been fun, but I need the real Crenshaw for a minute. Is he in there or am I wasting my time? Cause if he’s not in, that’s fine. I’ll go get my help elsewhere.”

He sits back in his seat, appraising me. “You mean the others.”

“I mean The Hive.”

“Joss,” Ryan says quietly. His tone tells me that, yes, the foot nudge was a warning.

I ignore it and him.

“What’s it going to be, Cren?”

There’s a long tense silence in the small room. The smell of the onions is starting to give me a headache, the low light messing with my eyes and making them burn. As he continues to stare at me, something in his face changes. He’s angry at me but there’s something else too. Something I’m not equipped to read or understand.

“It is an island,” Crenshaw finally says softly, “filled with people. Survivalists like myself. They cleared it of the wraiths, built homes, made it sustainable. They are very reclusive. Very exclusive. Many in my generation know of them but they are heavily guarded and not to be trifled with. You may join by invitation only and they stopped sending out invitations a long time ago.”

“You had one, didn’t you?” Ryan asks him gently.

Crenshaw nods sadly. “I did. I still do. I helped them years ago to set up their gardens for the apothecary. In exchange, I was given an open invitation to join them at any time.”

“Why haven’t you?” I ask.

He ignores me. He sits in silence staring down at the map. At the small point lovingly labeled Elysium.

“Why didn’t you go?” Ryan finally asks.

“Because I would not leave her behind,” he whispers.

His daughter. Even I can follow this part of the conversation.

“Will they help us to take down the Colony? To overthrow A-36?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me directly. He doesn’t look at me. “They despise the Colonies. They were once one of them. The original. Not on the island, but farther south in the deserts of another land. Of another time. A time when the war was waged with true armies and still we lost. Now our hope lies in you, in the two of you and… I am sorry. I have drifted off topic and you need answers. You need them now.”

“Come on, Cren,” I say, trying not to sound as annoyed as I feel. Or as guilty.

“If anyone will help you, it will be them.”

“Do they have a name?” Ryan asks.

Crenshaw nods. “The Vashon. They took that name when they broke from the zealots. When innocent blood was shed and they would stand for it no longer, which is why they are your greatest hope. I learned my hatred of the zealots from them and trust me, it runs deep. If you go to the others they will betray you. They will steal from you, enslave you, murder you, but the very last thing they will ever do is help you. I hope you understand that.” He stands abruptly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve grown weary. I would be alone, thank you.”

“Of course,” Ryan agrees, standing quickly.

He puts his hand lightly on my back to usher me forward. I start to turn to snap at him but his touch turns impatient. I’m shoved out the door past Crenshaw before I can say a word. Ryan stays inside for a brief moment. Then he bows, accepts a light hand laid on the back of his head and that’s it. Thus concludes the crazy portion of our day.

I turn silently to leave with Ryan, but when I look back at the small dark hut set deep in the woods, I feel sick in my stomach. Sad. We got information. We have a lead on a path to take around The Hive.

But I know I might have burned a bridge getting it.

Chapter Eight

Ryan and I walk in silence back to my loft. We have to deal with Risen along the way, but we take them down easily and without a word. We’re surrounded at one point, something that should have scared me, should have sent my blood running cold through my veins and my heart hammering in my chest until it couldn’t take it anymore and stopped. My breath should have died in my throat, a strangled moan escaping to be drowned out in the roar of moaning surrounding me. It should have happened because it’s happened before.

But I was alone before.

This time Ryan and I immediately went back to back, my shorter body pressed up against his tall, broad one, and we faced off with the closing crowd. My missing arm is annoying but manageable. The pain is getting better meaning I’m getting better. Stronger. I’m healing and coming back from this thing that happened to me that left me broken. And, yes, I am well aware that it’s only my bone that’s healing. Whatever else was damaged is still fractured and jagged, cutting into everything and everyone around me.

When we get to my building, the second I step into the entryway, Ryan turns abruptly and begins to walk away. I stand amazed for a second, my jaw literally hanging slack as I watch him go.

“Where are you going?” I call after him.

He stops but he doesn’t turn. “You’re home. Now I’m going home.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye? Without say anything.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He turns to look at me, his brow pulled tight in anger and amazement. “Are you serious? I’m pissed off, Joss.”

“At me?”

“Oh my—“ He throws his head back as he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“I know why you’re mad,” I say bitingly, getting annoyed that he’s acting like this. I already feel guilty about so many things, I don’t need this too. I don’t need another lecture from another person telling me I’m doing it all wrong.

He drops his hands to stare at me. “Why? Why am I mad?”

“You think I don’t know. That is so condescending! I’m not a child. I’m not an idiot.”

“I think you don’t understand. I hope you don’t understand, because if you do then what you did back there was cruel and I really don’t want to find out you’re cruel. A lot of things I can overlook, but I will not deal with that.”

“No one is asking you to deal with anything,” I growl, taking several quick steps toward him. “No one asked you to ‘overlook’ anything. If there are things about me that you don’t like, Ryan, then get the hell away from me. Leave me alone. You’ve been stalking me since the start. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you or for them,” I spit out, gesturing to the north, toward the Colony, “and I definitely didn’t ask to be anyone’s hero. So go ahead and go. Walk away and let me forget about you and the Colony and Crenshaw and Vin. It’s all a mess anyway. I’ll be better off without it.”

Ryan closes the distance between us. He stops a single step away from me, staring down at me with his golden glowing eyes that make me want to cry. It’s so humiliating. The tears are everywhere lately and if I’m not very careful, I could drown in them. I’ll be like Alice from the Wonderland stories swimming in her own tears that refuse to stop because she’s too scared and lost and alone.

“You can’t do that. That’s not how it works,” Ryan tells me quietly, his anger seemingly gone. Poof, like magic. Like a burst balloon. “People aren’t all or nothing. Friendships don’t live and die on a single argument. You don’t love everything about a person and you don’t hate everything about them either. There are going to be things about you that I don’t like, Joss, but not all of them will send me running. There are going to be things about me that you don’t like—“

“So many,” I mumble.

He grins faintly. “But you can’t quit on me. Not until you find something you can’t forgive. Cruelty I can’t forgive. What about you?”

I swallow hard, shaking my head. I don’t know what a deal breaker for me is. I’ve never had to think about it. All I know is that the only thing I will not abide from him is dying. But I can’t say that because he won’t promise me that it won’t happen and I’ll hate him for it. So instead, I make an effort at mending fences in the hope that someday soon I’ll get good at it. And once I’m good at those, hopefully I’ll feel strong enough to rebuild bridges.

“I wasn’t being cruel,” I tell him firmly. “At least I wasn’t trying to be. I was impatient. I have this thing weighing on my chest, sitting like a sack of rocks on top of me and I can’t shake it. Not until I get this done and it’s already been weeks. I don’t have time to sit around talking nonsense with him all day. They don’t have time for that.”

“Okay, that’s fair. But remember, not all of his nonsense is nonsense.”

“Ugh,” I groan, dropping my head back. “I don’t have time for riddles either.”

“It’s not a riddle. Look, you’re smart. You’ll figure it out. Why don’t you go inside now? We’ve been out here awhile and we haven’t been quiet. That’s gotta be bugging you.”

“Not as much as it should be,” I mutter, looking up and down the street. It’s empty. For now. “Are you still going home?”

He hesitates, watching me. “I probably should.”

I grin. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda. What are you actually going to do?”

He kisses me. It’s light and lingering. Surprising. His lips are the only part of him touching me and they’re barely doing that. I feel exposed, open to the cold air while his heat is hovering nearby. It’s amazing, breathless and free, like I want to be kissed like this by him for the rest of my life. I know he’s done it on purpose. That he’s keeping his distant, giving me space. That he’s adapting to my own crazy, setting his watch to my cuckoo clock and it’s incredible how that makes me feel. How it changes the kiss into more than skin against skin. It makes it a promise. An understanding. It doesn’t feel closed in, doesn’t feel confining. It feels light as air, heavy as sunshine.

He breathes warm across my mouth, making me shiver and smile. When he pulls away, he puts two steps between us.

“Now I know I should go home,” he says, his voice deep.

I lift a skeptical eyebrow. “But are you going to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come watch a movie with me,” I blurt out. “We can watch Pretty in Pink.”

“Why that one?” he asks, already closing the space between us again.

He’s so easy.

“Because I don’t like it.”

“Then why would we watch it?” he laughs.

The sound of his voice echoing up and down the deserted street makes me smile. I should be cringing. I should be telling him to shush it or he’ll get us killed. But I like the sound of his laughter all around me, the way it is in the loft when I feel the space shrink around him, becoming warmer. Brighter. Somehow more mine by his being there.

“You’ve seen what I like. Why wouldn’t I show you what I don’t like?”

He grins down at me, his eyes happy and full. “That’s a really good point.”

“Is that what people do?”

“I don’t know. But it’s what we do. When do I get to show you what I don’t like?”

I roll my eyes, turning my back on him to head toward the building. “I already know what you don’t like.”

“Really? Hit me with it.”

“You don’t like when I’m mean. When I’m too harsh.”

“True, but I just told you that.”

“You don’t like it when I pull away from you.”

He’s silent behind me, no sound other than his footfalls in time with mine.

“You don’t like it when you think I don’t trust you,” I continue.

“No, I don’t like it when you absolutely, positively do not trust me.”

I stop two steps up from him on the stairs, turning to look down at him.

“I do trust you. Probably more than I trust myself sometimes and that’s scary. I don’t like it, but I’m working on it. You’ve gotta give me time. It took me six years to be this way, it will take more than six weeks to change me.”

“I don’t want to change you, Joss.”

I grin at his lie. “Yes, you do. At least a little.” I shrug, continuing up the stairs. “And maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. Maybe it will do me good to let my guard down a little.”

Famous last friggin’ words.

When we open the door to my loft, I nearly scream. That’s where I’m at on the threat level. Screaming. Let me make something crystal clear here; I. Do. Not. Scream. Ever. Not when they ate my parents, not when I ran into the street to find a world gone crazy, not even when they pounded on the outside of the car all day and all night as I lay shivering on the floorboards soaked in urine, sweat and fear. I never made a sound.

But now, finding Trent parked in the darkness in the middle of my loft, his eerie eyes fixed on my face like a hungry lion, I choke on a shriek.

“I will freakin’ kill you,” I breathe, begging my heart to stop pounding in my chest. It aches from the pressure.

“Good to see you too,” he drones.

“Come on, Trent, a little warning. We could have killed you, man,” Ryan complains behind me.

Trent smirks. “Not on your best day.”

“What do you want, psycho?” I demand.

“It’s not what I want. It’s what The Hive wants.”

Ryan curses behind me. I second that. Trent just nods.

“They want to see me,” Ryan eventually mumbles.

“They want to know why you’re fighting again. And who it is you’re fighting for.”

“When?”

“Hours ago would have been best.”

I glare at him. “You obviously knew we were downstairs. Why didn’t you come tell us this? It’s kind of important.”

“And interrupt your magic moment? There are so few joys in this world anymore, why would I steal that from you two?”

I look at Ryan. “Is he messing with me or is he being serious? I can’t read him.”

“No one can,” Ryan says. “He’s written in backwards brail.”

I glare at Trent again. “It’d be easier just to kill him.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Trent smiles.

“Alright, let’s not waste time.” I turn to Ryan, holding up my arm. “Take the splint off. Let’s go.”

He stares down at me for a long time, just looking. I wait patiently, my arm still held out to him.

“Would it to any good at all,” he asks quietly, his eyes imploring, “to ask you to stay here. Not tell you, but ask you nicely to stay here and wait for me?”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself I’m mending fences here. “I appreciate that you’re not trying to tell me what to do. Consider your effort acknowledged.”

“I’m marking it in the minutes of this conversation,” Trent tells us.

“Not helping,” Ryan mutters, glaring at him over my shoulder.

“But,” I say firmly, shaking my arm to get Ryan’s attention, “it doesn’t change the fact that I’m coming with you. I’m the one with Vin’s ring—“

“You could give it to me.”

“And I’m the one who was sent in his place.”

“They don’t know that.”

“I’m the one who knows about the Colony.”

“You’ve told me what you know.”

“I’m the one who was kidnapped, held prisoner, watched her friend nearly killed and murdered a woman in cold blood to get out!” I shout, deciding fences are overrated anyway. “I’m going!”

“Alright,” Ryan says softly. Too softly. He steps closer, pushing my arm down out of the way. “Then what about this? They didn’t ask to see you. They want to see me about the Underground. It has nothing to do with you and I can tell them that at the door if you try to go with me. You’ll be locked out, treated like a girl from the stables.”

“You wouldn’t,” I growl, fully believing the look in his eyes that says yes, he would.

He nods slowly. “Oh yeah, I would. If it means keeping you from going there, I would.”

“I promised them, Ryan.”

“And we’ll keep your promise. I’ll help you. We’ll go to the Vashons. We don’t need The Hive.”

“What’s a Vashon?” Trent asks.

I bristle, hating the interruption, but I bite my tongue because I’ve already shouted at one of them in the last few minutes. I’m not looking to lash out at everyone. Not yet.

“A group Crenshaw mentioned. We were just with him asking his advice,” Ryan tells him, still standing in my space.

He’s towering over me, probably to intimidate me, but what he doesn’t know (what I’ll never tell him) is that it’s comforting. Eye level with his chest, seeing his shoulders go on for miles, knowing the strength lying in wait inside; it’s comforting. He has my back and he’s strong enough to rely on. I can let a little bit of the weight of the world pass on to him and he can take it. That’s terrifyingly wonderful. It’s why I don’t step away. Not because I don’t want to retreat. Don’t want to show weakness. Okay, that’s part of it, but mostly it’s because I just like it. I like him.

“They live on an island down south. It’s supposed to be Risen free,” I tell Trent.

“That’s a sweet fairytale,” Trent chuckles.

“I don’t think it is. I think it’s for real. At least it was the last he knew of it. Either way, it’s worth a try. It’s a better option than owing anything to The Hive.”

“But what if it’s not real?” I ask, looking up into his face. “What if we get there and it’s nothing? Then we need The Hive anyway and we lost our shot at talking to them.”

Ryan shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. “I’d rather take the risk that they don’t exist than risk taking you—“

“We’d need a boat.”

Ryan and I both turn to look at Trent.

“Why?”

“It’s an island, right? We’d need a boat to get to it. Do you have a boat?”

I shake my head even though I imagine I’m not meant to answer that question.

“No,” Ryan admits darkly.

“Well then, problem solved,” Trent says happily, standing. “We need The Hive after all.”

Chapter Nine

Ryan, Trent and I walk through the dark streets together, heading for The Hive. This area is relatively cleared of Risen, not much of a surprise. But the empty, silent streets make me more nervous than a horde would. It’s ominous and horrifying. I’m shaking a little, though I’d never let them know it. My arm is aching being out of the splint, the thin material of my worn, black fleece the only protection it has left. It’s not ready. Maybe I’m not ready. But the dull yellow glow of the lights inside the aquarium are burning at the end of the street and it’s too late to turn back now.

“Crenshaw isn’t going to be happy about this,” Ryan grumbles.

“Cren ain’t gots to know ‘bout it.”

He looks over at me, his face worried and confused. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I mutter, wiping my sweating palms on my pants. “I’m freaking out a little.”

“It shows. What was that?”

“I’ve heard the gangs talk like that before,” I say defensively.

“Well, most don’t so, you know… don’t.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

He glances over at me, the confusion gone but the worry etched deep in his eyes. “I won’t let them keep you here.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

I won’t let them keep me here.

“Then what are you afraid of?” Trent asks.

“Did I say I was afraid? No one said afraid. Let’s keep it on the real, boys.”

“Stop that,” Ryan reminds me.

“Right, yeah. I’m not afraid. I’m just freaked. It’s different.”

“What are you freaked about?”

“There are Risen in there. In a crowded room. That’s a big red flag right there; the mass of people. I’m not a fan.”

“Joss, you know it takes a long time to turn. Way longer than it used to.”

“But there are tons of people in there that come in contact with Risen for fun. I’m not done worrying you’ll still turn from being around them with your open cuts. What kind of wounds do all of them have? How old are they?”

“We cleaned mine early, I’m fine. Calm down. It’s not like it used to be.”

“If a person is bitten, though—“

“They’re done for, I know. But we’ll be out of there way before they turn.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Keep that to yourself when you get in there.”

“I’m not great at censoring myself.”

“Maybe don’t talk at all,” Trent suggests.

Ryan and I both glare at him. He shrugs, unconcerned.

“You can talk, just be careful what you say,” Ryan tells me. “Less is more.”

“I tried to say that about her clothes and you told me to f—“

“Don’t start that again,” Ryan warns Trent.

“What about my clothes?” I ask, glancing down at my tattered jeans and too large coat.

Trent smirks at me. “You look like a tomboy.”

“Because I am, Trent.”

“I told him we should bring you in looking like a stable girl. It would make more sense.”

“And I said drop it,” Ryan warns him, his voice becoming hot.

“Like a pro?” I ask, shocked.

But then I wonder why I’m shocked. How else are they meant to explain me? Where have I been hiding if not inside a stable? I’ll cause more of a stir walking in looking like this, like I don’t owe anyone anything, than I would waltzing in naked. I’m definitely not doing that, that’s insane and I’m pretty sure it’s so far outside my comfort zone that I’d vomit from the stress, but it’s something to consider.

I quickly strip off my jacket, carefully peeling it over my aching arm.

“Hold this,” I snap at Trent, throwing the jacket in his face.

It falls away to reveal his feline smile, his eyes watching me in the dark.

“Joss, you don’t have to change how you look,” Ryan says, sounding tired.

“Yes, I do,” I tell him, pulling my t-shirt up over my head.

I don’t have anything on underneath but a thin tank top and a sports bra, but it’ll have to do. My education on sexy comes from 80’s movies but I somehow doubt fluffing my hair and wearing neon spandex is what I need to blend in these days.

“You need to eat more,” Trent says, pointing at my side. “I can see your ribs.”

I snatch my coat back from him, wincing as pain shoots up my arm.

“If I had more to eat, I’d eat it. Back off me.”

“You’re not taking good care of your girl, Ry.”

“I would if she’d let me,” Ryan mutters.

He’s staring down at me as well. Mostly at my chest.

“Alright,” I growl at both of them, “eyes forward and hands off. Let’s go get this over with.”

We move under an overpass, crumbling and decrepit. I hurry as I always do going under them, worried that they’ll choose that moment to dissolve down on top of me. To trap me as easy pickings for… well, just about anyone, living or undead. I shiver at the thought of all the enemies I have out there, a fair portion of which are in this building looming in front of me. It’s stupid to be here.

The building is two stories of good condition that screams someone lives there. The exterior paint is badly chipped and faded, but broken windows are carefully boarded up and the surrounding areas are barricaded and secured. It’s a long building stretching out onto a pier over the water of the Pudget Sound. I’ve fished there before. Not by this building, obviously, but hidden farther north away from The Hive and the Colonies nearby. I can see them now. The stadiums are just south of us, also glowing faintly in the night sky. All of them so shamelessly broadcasting where they are and what they have. Hardly a care in the world.

I hate all of them.

The inside of the building is dark as far as I can see, but Ryan doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to the door and knock sharply. It doesn’t take long for a small square in the door to pop open.

“What?” a voice asks gruffly.

Ryan puts his face to the hole. “I’m here to see the Boss. He asked for me.”

“You’re not here to fight?”

“No. Just business.”

“That’s a shame. Slow night.”

“Not my problem,” Ryan says, his tone dead.

I hear a muffled chuckle as the square slams shut. Bolts are unlatched and eventually the door swings open. There are lights on inside but not much. The entire entryway is cast in black shadows, including the bouncer at the door, and I hesitate as all of my survival instincts scream at me to run the other way. Nature and numbers. They don’t lie.

Ryan steps inside, not bothering to look back to see if Trent and I are following him. Trent nudges me subtly with his arm, falling in step behind me as I stumble forward. I keep moving, my muscles jerky with the tremors running through them. I probably look like one of the junkies. Someone itching for a fix. Better to look like an addict than a coward.

We come into a large open area with high ceilings and exposed beams. The remnants of a huge fish tank sits on the opposite side of the room. It’s emptied of water but looks like it’s filled with something else. Shoes maybe? It’s too dark to tell and I’m too freaked to wander over and look. I hang close to Trent, of all people.

I am knee deep in Neverland now. There are so, so, so many Lost Boys. They’re milling around the lobby, swarming everywhere. No one close, but they’re on the peripheral. Walking on the catwalks above us, sitting around what was once a reception desk to the left and a lot of them are coming and going behind the fish tank. Back there must either be where the fights or the girls are.

The people, they don’t bother me so much. I got pretty used to it at the Colony, though I never learned to like it. What’s bugging me more than anything is the darkness and the lights. It’s too dark to see well, to know who is who and what their life status is. But the light annoys me more. Strung all over the building are strands of LED Christmas lights of every color. I hate Christmas lights. Christmas trees, Christmas music, Christmas presents, but I absolutely cannot stand Christmas lights. These LEDs make the movements of the people around me seem strange, almost like a strobe light. I try my hardest to ignore them but it’s like ignoring the sun. It’s everywhere.

“Ryan,” a high pitched voice sings out.

We all turn to see a girl about my age walking down the stairs from the catwalks. She’s wearing next to nothing. Tiny little shorts and a tinier tank top. Her long blond hair looks pretty clean, making me wonder if The Hive has hot showers. I’m pretty sure they don’t get their soap from Crenshaw.

“Elise,” he says, his voice no warmer than it was for the bouncer.

“I thought that was you. I missed you the last couple times you were here.”

“I wasn’t here to socialize.”

“What about tonight?” she purrs, walking right up to him and pressing her hand against his stomach. “Do you have time to be social tonight?”

I go to take a step toward them, but Trent stealthily grabs my hand. Thank goodness it’s my good hand, because he crushes it in his. When I glare up at him, trying to pull it out of his grasp, he shakes his head minutely. I freeze, waiting.

Ryan steps back from the girl. She steps forward, regaining the ground and giggling up at him.

“Not a good time, El. I’m here to see the Boss tonight.”

“What about after? You might want a midnight snack.”

He jerks his head toward Trent and I. “I packed a lunch.”

I want to punch him, but I remind myself that being a trick was my idea.

Elise smiles happily. “Ryan, finally taking a taste! It’s about time.” She glances over at me, frowning. “She’s scrawny, though. Where’d she come from?”

“I don’t know. She’s on loan from the Pikes.”

The girl scrunches her nose in disgust at me. “Geez, Ryan, are you that hard up? There are girls here that would give it up to you for free and you wouldn’t have to check them for fleas.”

“Just crabs,” I say sharply.

“What did you say?” she shrieks.

“I said you’re a dock walker,” I enunciate slowly. Loudly. “No doubt you’re crawling with crabs.”

“You’re dead,” she breathes, taking several steps toward me.

I’m itching for her to come closer. Just a little bit closer. Even with Trent destroying my good hand and my other arm on the mend, I could beat this chick into the ground. She won’t remember her own name when I’m done with her.

“You’re just mad because she’s right, Elise,” a voice flows down from the rafters, a soft southern drawl making her bitter words sound sweet.

We all look up to see a woman with long dark hair making her way toward the stairs. She’s beautifully pale and dressed almost the same way I am, only her bra, if she had one on, would be working a lot harder than mine.

“Now get away from Ry before I remove you myself.”

Elise backs away, glaring.

The dark haired woman stops at the bottom of the stairs, staring expectantly at Elise.

“Disappear.”

I’m disappointed when she does.

“Thanks, Freedom,” Ryan says, walking up to the woman to give her a hug.

It doesn’t bother me the way Elise’s hands on him did. My veins don’t run hot, my hands itching for a fight. For a knife.

“No problem,” Freedom tells him warmly. “Your brother would never want to see you around a girl like Elise and neither do I. But what are you doing here? You’re not fighting tonight are you?”

“No, I got called in to see the Boss.”

Freedom looks at him long and hard. “That’s never good.”

Ryan shrugs. It looks stiff. “I think he just wants to talk about the fights I was in recently. I’m not signing on with him. Don’t worry.”

“Anytime anyone goes in to see the Boss, I always worry. Be careful, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Freedom!”

She closes her eyes briefly. I imagine her counting to ten in her head. When she opens them, she turns to face a tall, shirtless bald guy stalking toward her.

“What do you want, Dante?”

“Are you seriously giving me attitude right now? You’re supposed to be in the Arena at the table full of Westies. The other girls are already there but they’re asking for you.”

Freedom rolls her eyes at this hulking man covered in tats, towering at least six inches over her. “Why are you even doing business with them? I told you, they’re idiots.”

“Idiots with deep pockets. Get in there.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Freedom, I’m not dealing with you tonight. Get in there now.”

I hold my breath as I watch his hands, worried he’ll hit her soon. I’ve seen women treated worse than that and this one is pushing the limits. Inside, I’m begging her to just go.

“Dante,” she says quietly, her accent becoming more pronounced. Less sweet. “If you tell me to get in there one more time, I will cut you. Do you understand me? I will cut you so deep your grandma in the grave will feel it. Now, I said I’ll be there in a minute and I meant it.”