by Katee Robert
“Jafar.” She shakes her head slowly. “You know better. The deal was made. We’ve washed our hands of the situation until it’s time to collect payment.”
I bite back my snarl at last minute. “Then I’m wasting my time.”
“Yes, you are.” She turns and walks to the elevators. She doesn’t look back.
I misplayed this from the beginning. I was so determined not to owe anyone anything that I didn’t even consider taking one of Hades’s deals. The second I realized Ali was gunning for Jasmine, I should have done whatever it took to remove him. Now she’s paying for my arrogance.
Fuck.
There’s nothing to do but leave. I take the elevators back down to the ground floor. I’m pulling out my phone as I catch a flash of green from the corner of my eye. I look up as Tink approaches, her expression just as irritated as ever. She shoves a piece of paper at me. “Get her back, asshole.” And then she’s gone, striding into the elevator and jamming the button to close it.
I carefully unfold the paper and hiss out a breath. I recognize Hades’s artful handwriting. That shit is almost calligraphy. The note is short and to the point.
Balthazar’s house.
This balances the scales.
-H
Balances the scales. I take a slow breath. If Ali hadn’t trespassed in The Underworld and pissed Hades off, I’d be shit out of luck right now. I can’t think about that too closely, can’t consider how narrowly this edged in my favor.
I dial Jeremiah. “Stop what you’re doing and get all the men. I know where they are.”
It was time to get my woman.
Chapter 20
Jasmine
Ali requests my presence at dinner. I might laugh at the farce of normality if I had the ability to laugh right now. Instead, I’m sitting across the table from my enemy in a white gown with a letter opener up my sleeve. Not close enough to strike. Not yet.
I listen with half an ear as he goes on and on about how clever he is for outmaneuvering Jafar for this long. About how sorry he is that my father paid the price of Jafar’s betrayal. How happy he is to save me from the enemy. On and on, until I want to clamp my hands over my ears and scream just to drown out his charming voice. It doesn’t matter how many words he spills into my silence; he can’t alter the truth.
Jafar may be the villain of this piece, but he’s not the only one—or even the worst.
I drink my white wine and keep my expression blank. His two men, the only two I’ve seen since we arrived, hold positions on either side of the door to the hallway. Too far away to stop me from using my blade, but then I’m too far away right now, too. I realize I recognize one of them. He’s one of my father’s men, though his name dances on the tip of my tongue. My father wasn’t a fan of encouraging anything resembling familiarity with his daughter, something that will work against me now. This man backing Ali doesn’t bode well for him switching sides to support me.
There is no right time for this. The hungry way Ali watches me tells me everything I need to know. He’ll try something tonight, likely right after dinner. If I’m smart, I’ll wait for us to be alone to make my move. Surely he won’t have his men watch him try to take me. I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t risk it.
That’s not the only reason, though.
Always a pawn, but never a queen.
That’s how I’ve considered myself since the beginning. If I want to change that, truly change that, then it has to be public and it has to send a statement that cannot be refuted. I close my eyes and fling a prayer into the universe. I’m not sure I believe in a higher power, but if one exists, if it’s listening, I can use all the help I can get for what comes next.
“You’re not even paying attention,” Ali snarls.
I open my eyes and wrestle my expression into something resembling a smile. “Of course I am.”
He snaps his fingers. “Come here, Jasmine.” His slow grin makes my stomach clench in revulsion. “I haven’t gotten a look at you in that dress I bought you.” He waits for me to obey, to push to my feet and round the table to stand before him. The dress is fine, if not something I would choose for myself. It hugs my breasts and stomach before flaring out at the hips and falling in a wave to the floor. The high collar might have given it the illusion of modesty if not for the way the fabric clings to my body. I forewent a bra and the way Ali’s gaze zeroes in on my chest is the reason why. If he’s so focused on my breasts, he won’t be watching my wrists.
“Do you know why I chose white?”
Pretending to be interested in this conversation makes me sick, but I manage to keep the emotion from my tone. “Why did you choose white?”
“Because it’s our wedding day, Jasmine.”
That stops me short. I finally look at him, really look at him. “I’m not marrying you, Ali. I was never going to.”
His easy smile remains in place, but his dark eyes flare with anger. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re bought and paid for. Whether or not your father lived long enough to enjoy the riches doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine by contract. Desire has nothing to do with it, but,” He gives me another long look. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”
My rage rises again, so strong it steals my breath from my lungs. I glide a step closer to him. Almost within reach now. “Beautiful, yes. Rich, too, once you reclaim my father’s assets from Jafar.” I almost, almost stumble over his name.
“You’re a prize. There’s no doubt about that.” He holds out a hand. “Come here.”
I place my left hand in his and allow him to pull me close to stand between his thighs. Ali isn’t particularly large, but he’s strong. Stronger than I am, at least. I will my body soft and pliant. “You want to get a look at what you purchased.”
“Can you blame me?” He keeps a grip on my wrist and runs his free hand over me. My stomach. My breasts. My pussy. The way I imagine a man examining a horse for purchase might. There’s no heat in his touch, but that doesn’t stop me from fighting not to be sick. Finally, Ali sits back, his expression contemplative. “Definitely a prize.”
I search for words, but I have nothing except rage. “Ali?”
“Yeah?”
I lean down slowly, my gaze fastened to his mouth. I pretend he’s another man, one with a close beard and wickedly curved lips. Jafar. No, I can’t think of him. Not in this moment. I tug on my wrist, and he releases me so I can run my thumb along his bottom lip. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told another person?”
“What’s that?” His gaze goes a little hazy as I shift closer to straddle him. I have to be close for this to work. I have to be able to strike before he can counter.
I lean down until I’m sure he can feel my breath against his lips. “I would rather die than let you fuck me.” I jam my blade into his throat and wrench with all my strength. He shoves me away, but it’s too late. We’re both covered in blood. His blood. I straighten and force myself to watch as the life flees his dark eyes. I did this. I chose this. I will bear witness.
I lift my blade as the two men reach his body. “You have a choice right now, gentlemen. You can bend a knee or you can join him.”
“You bitch.” The stranger starts for me, violence in his gaze.
He makes it two steps before my father’s man shoots him in the back. We watch him sink to the ground and then I turn my attention to Jonah. That’s his name. I raise my eyebrows, determined not to show the fear slithering through me. “You have something to say, Jonah?”
He slides his gun back into his shoulder holster and considers me. “Your father saw you as a daughter, rather than a person.” When I simply wait, he continues. “You’ve proven that you’re his heir in every way that counts.” He nods at Ali’s body. “Not everyone will follow you, but enough of us will.”
This is what power feels like. The heady sensation leaves me dizzy and breathless, but I let none of it filter through to my expression. I glance down at my dres
s. Red paints the front and soaks the hem. As much as I want to rip it from my body, it sends a message I would be foolish not to utilize. “Gather them.” I absently clean my blade on the dress and roll my shoulders. “The foyer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It’s only when he’s gone that I consider this could be a trap. But to what end? Jonah could have just as easily attempted to do what both Jafar and Ali did—use me to send his shooting star right to the top of the hierarchy. It might even work. It seemed to well enough for the others.
If it’s not a trap?
Perhaps there are those who don’t want to rock the boat. Who were pleased with the way of things before Jafar’s coup and would be just as happy to go back to that at the earliest opportunity. I can’t blame them for the desire, for wanting to throw their lot in with the person they believe will make that happen.
I make my way slowly to the foyer. My dress leaves red marks on the tile behind me, which is a mood all on its own. I keep my chin up and shoulders back, even when faced with twenty men, each of which could kill me with the brush of a finger against a trigger. No one looks particularly aggressive, but it’s up to me to ensure things stay that way.
They part to allow me through to the stairs, and I feel their attention like a physical weight against my skin. So much expectation, and I’ll only have one shot to convince them I can deliver. I take a shallow breath and project my voice. “I am my father’s daughter.” The truth, even if it sits ill in my chest. “We have had pretender after pretender attempt to use me to cement your loyalty.” The thought of Jafar almost stops me cold. He’ll never forgive me for this, for snatching this power right out from underneath him. This operation was something he’d planned on since he took the position with my father, and now I’m placing myself squarely between him and his ambition, forcing him to choose.
I’m not sorry.
I love him. I think he loves me, too. But if there’s one thing Jafar worships in this life, it’s power. How can love compare to that kind of devotion?
“Swear fealty or get out. This will be your only chance. Insubordination will not be tolerated.” I spread my hands, knowing all too well the picture I paint. The bloody bride, who will murder any man who tries to bend her to his will. “You know the price of disobedience. Decide now.”
One man turns and walks out. I recognize the one who wanted Jafar to share me that first night. I wait, but no one follows him. It’s better than I dared hope. I nod to Jonah. “Bring in the ones who scattered at my father’s death. Give them the same choice, and respect it.” I turn my attention to the rest of them. “Set up a perimeter. We will have to retake several of the facilities, but you’re more than up to the task. Reclaiming my father’s legacy starts now.” The words taste foul on my tongue, but it’s a sentiment these men can understand. Can respect.
I turn and walk slowly up the stairs. This might have been the first sticking point, but it will not be the last. Others will test me and I’ll have to put them down in order to prevent a full-scale rebellion. I clench the skirt of my dress with shaking hands to hide even that small tell. I’ll get through it. I don’t have any other choice.
It’s only when I’ve locked myself in my room, stripped out of the hated dress, and stepped beneath the scalding hot water that I allow the tears to fall. I didn’t want this. Any of it. Not my father’s legacy, not the price it will demand of me.
But it’s the cost of my freedom. To be answerable to no one but myself means stepping from my father’s shadow—from Jafar’s shadow, from Ali’s shadow—and into the role of queen.
I watch the water run pink and press my lips together to keep the sobs internal. Had I thought Jafar and I stood a chance, even after I left him? He’ll come for me. I have no doubts about that.
But will he bend a knee?
Or will I lose him forever?
Chapter 21
Jafar
We make it to Balthazar’s house in record time, and even then I know it’s not fast enough. Hours have passed since Ali took Jasmine, hours in which he could have done anything to her. He won’t have killed her, but that is the only thing I can guarantee. Next to me, Jeremiah keeps a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as we take the winding curves leading to the house at reckless speed. I can’t relax, can’t affect an unconcerned tone. My ability to dissemble has disappeared alongside Jasmine. “We do nothing to jeopardize her safety.”
He clears his throat. “That puts us at a disadvantage if he starts shooting the second we pull up to the house.”
“Nothing, Jeremiah. That’s an order.”
It takes five minutes longer to reach the gate, and I spend the entirety of that time going over the different choices I could have made to prevent Jasmine from feeling like she had to run from me. Fuck, how many times did I offer to get her out? Rationally, I know that my giving her an out isn’t the same as her taking one for herself, but fear surpasses logic time and time again.
She’s in danger.
She’s suffering at Ali’s hands right now.
It’s my fault.
We stop in front of the gates, the trio of cars behind us falling in line. It’s closed, barring access to the property, but I expected no less. What I didn’t expect is Balthazar’s former head of security standing there with his arms crossed, his gun on full display. He didn’t make the jump with me, and last I heard, he wasn’t exactly pleased with Ali either.
Why the fuck is he here?
I ignore Jeremiah’s noise of warning and climb out of the car. I round the front, but stop several yards away. “I’m here for Jasmine.”
Jonah shakes his head slowly. “You made that play, and it was the wrong one.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Ali is making the same play.”
“Was.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Jonah is as implacable as ever. “Get back in your car. If she wants to see you, you can go through—just you and whoever is in the first car. The others will wait.”
I try to pick his words apart. Ali was making the same play, past tense. If she wants to see me? What the hell is going on? I barely smother my need to pepper Jonah with more questions. He won’t answer me, and it might piss him off enough to refuse us access. We can fight our way through the gate if we have to, but if there’s a chance to get through on peaceful terms, I have to take it. “So be it.”
I walk back to the car and climb inside. “Tell the others to wait here.”
Jeremiah gives me a look like I’ve lost my damn mind. Maybe I have. He finally says, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No. But it’s the only option we have.”
Several long minutes later, the gates open and Jonah motions us forward. I find myself holding my breath, but I can’t stop. I dread whatever we’ll find in the massive sprawling house. I should have protected Jasmine. My failure put her in this position, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to earn her forgiveness. I have to make my peace with that, with the knowledge that I’ll mow down anyone who lays a hand on her. At least then I’ll know she’s safe.
Even if she’s no longer mine.
My chest feels too tight as we stop near the front door and head inside. With only Jeremiah as backup, I should be more concerned with my own skin. He’s good, but no one is that good. I’m not. My world has boiled itself down to the necessities. Two words.
Find. Jasmine.
It turns out I don’t have to look hard. She’s coming down the staircase, her hair pulled back into a braid, a bruise blossoming across the right side of her face. Her dress is the color of life’s blood, a red so dark it’s almost black, and it flares around her with every step. A glint of metal in her hand forms into the same blade she threatened me with the first night.
This is not a victim rushing to meet her savior.
This is a queen considering whether or not to treat with an enemy.
She st
ops halfway down the steps, and though I’m conscious of men filtering into the room around us, I can’t take my eyes off her. “Ba—Jasmine.”
“Jafar.” Even her voice sounds stronger, fiercer. As if she’s found her footing and she no longer needs my assistance to stand tall. She studies me for a long moment. “Ali tried to take something I wasn’t willing to give, and he’s dead because of it.”
Ali is dead.
I don’t have to read between the lines to know that my baby girl killed him, likely with that knife she’s clinging so tightly to. Fuck, but I would have saved her from that if I could. Even though I try to moderate my tone, my next words come out low and ragged. “I’m sorry.”
She lifts the knife to examine, the blade glinting in the light. “I’ve decided that I’m done being a pawn. My father may not have considered me his heir, but I am his heir in truth. His men—my men—have accepted that. The only question remains is whether you will bend the knee and come back into the fold, or if it’s exile.”
Exile.
She’s not bluffing. If I can’t accept her as queen, if I try to force her back into the box she’s lived in for her whole life, then she’ll drive me out. It might break her heart to do it, but she loves her freedom more than she cares about me.
I don’t fault her for it.
How can I?
No, pledging myself to another ruler was never part of my plan. If someone asked me yesterday if I’d consider it, I would have laughed them out of the room. But this isn’t just another ruler. This is Jasmine. If I cling to my pride, I will lose her, and my instincts say I won’t get another chance. This isn’t something I can override with lust and dominance to get her to bend to my will. She’s drawn a line in the sand and I can step to it or I can get the fuck out.
