by Katee Robert
“I’m listening.”
Keeping her voice even and disinterested took more effort than it should have. “Camp Bueller was the only place of that nature that you presided over.”
Zhao’s expression didn’t change. “It was, yes.”
She pressed on. “When it closed, you moved operations. I want to know where.”
He boomed out a laugh. “I know how this goes, daughter. I indulge this line of questioning, and within a few days, the full fury of the Horsemen of Ys comes down on a place of business that I own.”
He’d as much as admitted that there was another camp. Another location of torture and horror where children were being victimized. Amarante didn’t blink. “Surely a prominent business man like yourself doesn’t need that kind of location to gain profit. Really, Zhao, it’s crass.”
“Crass.” He smiled at her. “You know how these things work. Many arms, many incomes, all for the sake of stability. Providing certain people with certain tastes is simply good business.”
Simply. Good. Business.
Amarante had crossed so many lines over the years, she barely had a single boundary left. With her back against the wall and her siblings looking to her to lead them, there hadn’t been time to be precious about survival. Later, when the number of those under her care grew as the Island of Ys grew, the responsibility had required her to make hard choices again and again. She never let anyone know the cost. It was hers to bear, and hers alone.
Yet one thing remained sacred.
Children.
Zhao had to know that. It was why he subtly taunted her with this talk of certain tastes as if hurting children was in line with enjoying seafood. Amarante stared him down, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. “I suppose it’s up to you to decide what my presence is worth.” She pushed slowly to her feet. “I think we’re done here.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, daughter.”
Daughter. Over and over again, he drove the reminder of their blood relation home. Whether he did it to harm or in an attempt to bridge the gap between them was anyone’s guess. Amarante didn’t care. She turned for the door.
“Wait.”
She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“It’s a few hours north of Hazelton.”
She closed her eyes for several long beats. They hadn’t moved to another country, another part of the world. They’d moved that fucking camp a half day’s drive from the old one. Amarante opened her eyes. Whipping herself for the oversight could be done later. Right now, she had to get out of here before she forgot herself and went after him. She could almost feel the pain sparking along her fist as she beat his smug fucking face in, the give of his nose beneath her blows. She wouldn’t stop until he was unrecognizable.
Amarante turned the knob and walked out of the room. Nari’s heels clipped behind her, but she didn’t look over her shoulder at the other woman. Not when she knew her reaction was written all over her face for anyone to see.
She strode down the hallway in the direction of the elevator. The obvious thing to do was to tell her siblings the location of the base and let them take care of it. Or at least begin the process to take care of it. Even if she didn’t survive this summit, they would ensure that the children captive in that place were rescued and taken care of.
It could be a trap.
No, it was a trap.
Zhao wouldn’t give that information without an ulterior motive, no matter how much he claimed to want her to take this theoretical role within his operation. Either he had lied about the location, or he wanted to use this move to eliminate the other Horsemen. They weren’t operating at peak performance right now. Not with Luca still healing from several gunshot wounds and Ryu seven different kinds of distracted because of his new woman. And Kenzie? She’d just faced down her own personal demon not too long ago. Even if she seemed well enough, she couldn’t be trusted to react rationally without someone there to check her.
They needed Amarante to pull this off, and she was the one thing they couldn’t have.
She reached the elevator and it opened without hesitation. A quick scan and they were shooting upward to her floor. Nari wisely said nothing, which was just as well. This entire situation had gone from problematic to impossible and she still hadn’t had a chance to get Zhao alone. At this point, her best bet was Tristan, and that wasn’t a good plan by any stretch of the imagination. Getting close to him meant putting herself at risk. Maybe not necessarily physically, though she couldn’t rule that out at this point.
Tristan got beneath her defenses too easily. He always had. Even Kenzie recognized it, because her suggestion to get “it” out of her system had been halfhearted at best. They both knew there was no getting something out of Amarante’s system once it took up residence. When she cared for people, it wasn’t something she could turn off.
It’s why she went out of her way not to let anyone close.
If that was her goal, she was about ten years too late on it with Tristan.
Nari waited for her to open her door and gave a little wave. “Let me know if you’re planning on leaving the room before tomorrow’s meetings and I’ll pop up here.”
“I’m not.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
Amarante shut the door carefully when all she wanted to do was slam it. The display of violence wouldn’t help. Tearing through this room and destroying everything she could get her hands on wouldn’t help, either. It’d feel good in the moment, but then she’d be left with the destruction. She didn’t think Nicholai would report on the loss of control to Tristan—and through him, Zhao—but she couldn’t be sure.
Because she couldn’t be sure, she kicked off her heels and strode through the suite to the bedroom. She stripped in short, economical movements and padded naked into the bathroom. Only when the shower was going and she stood beneath the spray did she allow herself to react.
A sob ripped from her lips.
Amarante pressed both hands to her mouth, muffling the sound. She’d thought she was prepared for this. Really, she should have known better. There was no preparing for facing down the past, especially when the truths hidden there were so incredibly ugly. No amount of control would change them. Nothing she could do would change anything about the past.
There was only the future.
Time passed and eventually she was able to straighten and release a long exhale. There were still two days left of dealing with Zhao. Two days of trying to find a way to chop the head off the snake. It had seemed difficult, but not impossible when she agreed to attend this sham. Now, she wasn’t so sure she could pull it off. There was no opportunity.
The plan needed to be adjusted.
She wrapped herself in one of the soft fluffy robes and walked back into the bedroom. The thought of getting dressed again, of stuffing all her emotions down deep so she could present a strong front long enough to get a meal…Amarante couldn’t do it. Instead, she tightened the tie on the robe and moved to the living room. Pacing was more Kenzie’s thing than hers, but her feet found a pattern and she walked it over and over again.
Calling her siblings was out of the question. Not without more of a plan, more of something to ensure they all walked out alive. Amarante stopped short. If she succeeded in killing Zhao here, the knowledge of the new camp would die with her when Nicholai enforced his laws. It wouldn’t matter if the place was a trap because the other Horsemen would never know about it.
She closed her eyes and stood perfectly still. There was a way through this. She just had to think.
A knock on her door brought a curse to her lips. She marched there and yanked it open. Finding Tristan there didn’t surprise her, not really. He had his hands in his pockets and a carefully blank expression on his face. “Can I come in?”
She looked behind him, even though she knew better. For all the Warren’s so-called extreme security, Tristan certainly moved about wherever and whenever he wanted to. As tempti
ng as it was to close the door in his face, she found herself stepping back and letting him into her room. It wasn’t until she shut and locked the door behind him that she registered that Tristan was in her room.
Not to mention she wore nothing but a robe.
She started to cross her arms over her chest and abandoned the motion halfway through. “What do you want, Tristan?”
Though she expected him to respond with something irreverent, he moved to the faux window and stared into the night sky pictured there. “Something’s wrong.”
“You’re going to have to be slightly more specific. Many things are wrong.” Children trapped in a place designed to torture them for the pleasure of rich sociopaths. Her siblings in danger. Her plan in shambles.
Tristan turned back to her. “In all the time I’ve worked for Zhao, he’s never operated like this. It’s clumsy.”
She couldn’t argue that. Being forced to sit in a room with him, or engage in the planned activities, all while he badgered her from one direction and then another… She didn’t believe for a second that he considered her life a proving ground of some unknown test, or that he would accept her as some prodigal daughter even if she was interested. A man like Zhao worked too hard for his power to share it, even with an heir. It wasn’t how he functioned.
But she couldn’t trust Tristan.
A small, weak part of her wanted his being here to be proof that he truly cared. That he was choosing her over Zhao instead of the other way around like he did all those years ago. Amarante straightened. Maybe that was the play. Zhao put her off her guard and Tristan moved in from the other side to angle for her weak spot. “You should leave.”
“Te, you’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening. To everything.” That was the problem. She couldn’t turn her head off. She’d never been able to, even when she was with him. Even as off-center as she felt right now, her mind was still spinning, spinning, spinning. “Why are you here, Tristan?”
His jaw tightened and he finally met her gaze. “I’m here for you, Te.”
Words she desperately wanted to hear… ten years ago. Hearing them now, when she had so much at stake and he was the enemy? It felt like a slap in the face. Amarante strode to the door. “Get out. Get out right fucking now.”
Chapter 10
One look at Amarante’s face told Tristan that if he tried to argue, he’d have a literal fight on his hands. While the thought thrilled him on one level, it wasn’t why he’d come here. He held up his hands slowly. “I’m going.”
If eyes could shoot literal lasers, he’d be melted flesh and bone on the ground. Amarante grabbed the door knob and yanked it open. “Out!”
He barely had a moment to realize that the doorway wasn’t empty. A white man stood there, dressed in the same color clothing as all Nic’s staff. He had a tray in his hands and looked vaguely surprised to have the door open in his face. There wasn’t a single thing about him that seemed suspicious except his presence itself. No reason for the hair at the back of Tristan’s neck to stand on end.
He trusted his instincts, though, and his body reacted before his brain had a chance to catch up. He made it two huge steps closer before the man blinked and changed. It was a trick of posture, a straightening of his shoulders, a look in his nondescript brown eyes. “Death.” He dropped the tray and a gun appeared in his hand.
“Te, down.”
She reacted the instant the words left his mouth, ducking down to the floor as the man fired two bullets that would have taken her in the face. Tristan leapt over her and grabbed the assassin’s arm, forcing it up and away from Amarante. Even though the guy was smaller than Tristan, he had a deceptive amount of muscle packed on his lean frame. He wrenched his arm free and lifted the gun again.
Shit.
A metal tray came flying past Tristan’s shoulder and winged the man. He fell back a step, already lifting the gun again. Fuck, this guy was like the Terminator. They could take him out. Probably. But Tristan couldn’t guarantee that they’d do it without injury. He could handle whatever this asshole dealt out. The thought of Amarante with a bullet hole, though? The very idea had him spinning around and shoving her back into the room. He slammed the door and flipped the deadbolt.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“These doors can damn near hold up against explosives. A bullet won’t penetrate.”
Amarante looked like she wanted to beam him in the head a few times with that metal tray. “He’s going to escape.”
“He’s not going to escape. He’s in the fucking Warren.” He stalked to the phone. It started ringing before he had a chance to lift it. Tristan snatched it from its cradle. “You fucked up.”
“Stay in the room. We’re taking care of it. Under no circumstances are either of you to leave.” Nic hung up.
Tristan snorted. “Fat chance of that.”
“What was that?”
He opened his mouth, but the sound of Nic’s voice filled the room. He suspected it filled the entire building. The tension in his friend’s voice on the phone was nowhere in evidence now. “There is a small situation. My staff is taking care of it immediately, but all guests must remain in your room for the duration. To discourage anyone from getting foolish ideas, I’ve taken the liberty of engaging the locks. They will be released once the situation is resolved.”
“No,” Amarante murmured. “Absolutely not.” She flipped the deadbolt and yanked on the door. Nothing happened. She cursed and yanked it again. It didn’t so much as budge. “He can’t just lock us in here.”
“Apparently he can.” Tristan hadn’t even been aware that this was a feature the Warren had. In all his time moving through the shadows of this world, he’d never heard so much as a rumor of it being engaged. Which meant it likely hadn’t.
Then again, the Warren had never been breached before, either.
“I can’t do this.”
It then that he realized her eyes were too wide. She was shaking. Holy shit, Amarante was about to lose it. Tristan almost went to her, but he couldn’t guarantee that his proximity wouldn’t set her off worse. “It’ll be fine, Te. Just need to cool our heels for a bit and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She gave him a long look and stalked into the bedroom. Tristan definitely knew better than to follow her there without an invitation. He could dance on the edge of being a dick, but Amarante would literally rip his balls off if he crossed the line. He was quite attached to that part of his anatomy, so he dropped into a chair and studied the suite.
Reinforced door. No windows out. Maximum security, just as the Warren promised. No one ever thought about how the rooms could quickly become jail cells. Nic and a selection of his people would have override codes, but if there was a fire… Yeah, there had to be another way out of this room.
A last resort to look into. Right now, Tristan was exactly where he wanted to be, even if Amarante wasn’t interested in hearing him out. That was fine. He now had time to figure out how to make her listen.
She stalked back into the room with—
Tristan perked up. “Is that a joint?”
“That’s a stupid question.” She dropped into the chair across from him and flicked the lighter in her other hand. “We’re going to be stuck here for who knows how long, and I have no interest in getting drunk with you in my room. This will take the edge off and keep me functioning.” She lit the end of the joint and took a long inhale. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Te—”
“If you’re about to tell me that fucking can take the edge off, I will hold you down and light you on fire.”
Considering he’d been about to do exactly that, he snapped his mouth shut. “So violent.”
“Are you really surprised?” She took another long pull, held it in her lungs for a few moments, and exhaled slowly. He could actually see the tension dripping out of her.
He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m not surprised. You always did like to st
rike first and ask questions never.”
“That’s an oversimplification.”
“Is it?”
She considered him and held out the joint. “No. It’s really not. The only way to ensure you stay on top is to take out threats, sometimes before they decide to be threats.”
“You get no judgement from me. You’re alive and you’re in an enviable position of strength.” He accepted it and took a pull of his own. Tristan made a face. He wasn’t a smoker; hadn’t been since they were kids and he was sure of his immortality in the way only a kid could be. He exhaled on a cough. “Fuck, Te, this shit is strong.” He passed it back, a faint buzz working its way over his skin. When was the last time he had pot? He didn’t even know. Tristan usually stuck with alcohol, and even then he rarely indulged enough to blunt his edges. Even in Zhao’s various properties, it paid to keep an eye out for a knife in the back. That paranoia had saved his life a time or seven.
She kept smoking slowly, the silence settling over them the same way the high did as they passed the joint back and forth until it burned down to the very end. He noticed things in rolling waves. The way the fluffy white robe seemed to dwarf Amarante’s lean body, dialing back the years until she could be twenty again. Not innocent. Amarante had never had a chance to be innocent. But in those years between that fucking torture camp and Tristan leaving, there was a tiny hope kindling in her that he’d been drawn to.
It was gone now.
She leaned her head back against the chair, exposing the long line of her throat. It drew his gaze to her pointed chin, to the fact that her mouth wasn’t painted red for the first time in the last few days. She closed her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Can’t help it.”
Amarante lifted her head and shot him a look. “You’re not even trying.”
“No, I’m really not.” He let the buzz smooth out his thoughts. “That guy wasn’t just a professional. He was guild.”
