He pulled his focus, hoped for cooperation, and then asked for what he wanted.
The Councilor opened his mouth to shout, his brows contorted over his nose in a vee of fury. It was too late. Three choked on his words.
Alex lunged to grip the Councilor’s arm and twist it back and straight behind his body. He removed the glass from the Councilor’s other hand and forced the man to his knees with barely a sound. Couldn’t have a man of the Councilor’s impressive size thumping onto the floor.
“Stop,” Lena gasped. “Stop it.” She lurched to her feet. “He’s mine.”
He nodded at her and sent out a silent wish she would get what she needed from the man’s death. She was strong. This would make her stronger. Then they could talk.
Once she’s come to terms with who she is, we’ll be unstoppable together. She had to forgive him.
“He always was.” He glanced at the door to her left in caution. “But quietly, Lena.”
She straightened. “I can be quiet.” Her voice was a bare whisper, hardly louder than the hoarse, fruitless gurgles coming from the Councilor as she crossed to him.
Chapter 30
Lena stood over the still Councilor, her head bowed. The smell of his urine filled the closed air of the car as the pool widened around his waist where he lay. The hole inside her still gaped, black and empty. If anything, it was deeper. Why wasn’t this enough?
Because of Danny.
Alex sat behind her on the couch. He’d settled himself there after he’d gotten answers to the soft questions he’d asked the Councilor as she worked on the man. He had learned it was Councilor Four who was making a move against Sparks, and that a major trade house stood behind him. She tried to care.
She turned to him now, and the dark grief of betrayal welled up from that pit. She couldn’t believe her brother had been the one to force his hand.
He leaned into the corner of the couch, legs splayed, arm propped up on the armrest and three fingers spread over his mouth and chin as he watched her. She could see her grief reflected in him.
She left Three where he was and crossed to stand in front of him. His body tensed, muscles contracting in a barely perceptible wave as she approached. She looked to the side, at the collar beside him, open where it had come to rest when he’d pulled it off of her and thrown it across the room.
“I wish Danny was here.” She struggled to look away from the collar back to Alex. “Just so I could snap it around his neck. So he could know what he did.”
His eyes were very dark and, classic Alex, unreadable. “He didn’t do it. I did.”
“I know.” She did know. And she felt a fair share of anger for him, too. But she understood why he’d done it. Alex flexed around a situation. He made it work, and it had. He wouldn’t have had to if her brother hadn’t turned on her. “But when Danny saw me, he didn’t come to me. He turned me in. If not for you, they would have killed me. He didn’t care.”
He opened his mouth to deny it, but then closed it, opting instead to shake his head. Otherwise, he remained quiet, tense and waiting.
She reached out and picked up the thing. Like the collars she’d removed from the girls, the thick, hollow choker of metal had a hinge on one side and a powered clasp on the other. A tiny double row of buttons led to the clasp. It looked totally innocuous. Yet her skin crawled, and her stomach twisted with fear and revulsion. She swallowed and tightened her jaw so her chin wouldn’t give away her emotions.
He leaned forward in a slow, deliberate motion. “I’m so sorry, Lena. I should have found another way.” His hoarse voice filled with regret and self-loathing. “It was a tactical decision, always temporary. I made the decision because I know how strong you are. But it doesn’t excuse what I did.”
“It was Danny—”
“It was my choice. If we’re going to get past this, I need you to face it. Stop focusing on your brother and—”
“I can’t!” She didn’t have much left, and she couldn’t lose them both. “I can understand a tactical decision. But I can’t forgive my brother turning me in. And nothing you can say will change that.” She stared at him as he reached out and took the collar from her to bend it backward and snap it at the hinge. A new fear bloomed. “Unless there’s something more? Something that would change what we had?”
“Don’t say ‘had.’” He lifted his hands as if to reach for her, and she danced back, out of reach. He let her go. “There’s nothing more to it. It made the most sense at the time. I wish I’d found another way. It was wrong.”
She nodded her agreement.
“I won’t collar you again. Not ever.”