“On my way to Research and Development.”
A few seconds passed, and this time, when Kellee spoke, interference crackled. “Larsen is… the move. Told me to wait… There’s a delay. He might know—” The link cut off.
I was too deep to pull out.
“I’m coming after you,” Kellee announced.
“Don’t be a fool,” I whispered back. “Get out of here.” The elevator doors opened, revealing a hive of activity inside a maze of glass corridors. Every office was exposed, with everyone visible at their workstations. All anyone had to do was look up to spot me. I strode on, projecting a 100-percent-absolutely-definitely-supposed-to-be-here attitude.
A sweetness, floral and tempting, circulated in the air. I knew it well, having grown up surrounded by the intoxicating lure of Faerie magic. My power tingled across my skin and hummed through the coiled whip. I couldn’t see any obvious source of the sensation, but a fae was here or nearby. Hardly surprising. Whatever Larsen was doing inside Arcon wasn’t my problem. Get the job done and get out. I’d be invisible again soon.
“Sota…” I mentally called through our link. “Help me find you.” The link buzzed with life signs, and my breath hitched. My drone was close.
My ocular map blinked into my vision, seemingly of its own accord. My stride tripped. I pushed forward, heartbeat thudding too loudly in my ears. A single red dot blinked in my vision, over the floor plan of the building. Sota. It had to be. He was down another level, deeper still inside Arcon, but so close.
“K—sh.” Kellee’s voice crackled through the comms. “Wa—… Don’t…”
“I’m sorry, Marshal. Sorry for a lot of things.” Perhaps the apology would mean more once all this was over.
Kellee said something too softly for me to hear. The deeper into Arcon I went, the more the connection failed. Hopefully, he would heed my advice and leave. Our original plan had us meeting up later. Knowing who I was, he probably wouldn’t come, but at least he’d be safe from me, from this world I’d pulled him into.
I rode another elevator down, stepped out on the basement level and blinked into the darkness. The red light on my ocular display throbbed slow and steady just ahead. Why was it so dark?
The elevator door hissed closed behind me, and for a few seconds, I thought I’d be plunged into complete darkness. And then, down a long glass-lined corridor, a single light blinked on, highlighting the startling beauty of the dark-haired male warfae seated regally in his ornately carved oak chair. Long fingers held a wine glass aloft, its contents as blue as his hard, turquoise eyes. His slash of a smile said the words he didn’t need to.
I spun, reaching for the elevator, but the doorway and elevator were gone. Only blackness extended ahead of me, like the blackness of space but without the stars.
The red light on my ocular map blinked out, and then the map went out too, leaving me blind to any escape. There was nothing here, just a blackness that swallowed everything.
The ease of walking through the scanners, Sota’s helpful guidance into the depths of Arcon… it had all been an illusion. The warfae had dangled the bait, and I’d taken it like the gullible creature I was.
“The Wraithmaker,” the fae drawled. His voice sailed into the endless space and crawled across my skin, sinking inside, luring old fears and desires out of the cages I kept them in.
The shift of leather on leather coupled with the soft swish of his hair told me he had stood, but I didn’t want to turn to see. There were no windows here. No doors. I had my whip, but attacking him would be pointless. He already had me. There’s a time to fight and a time to run. But there’s also a time to bow low and live. I had fought him, and I had run from him. I knew what came next.
I swallowed excess saliva, tasting acid—swallowed the bitter anger, despair and shame. After so long, I hadn’t believed the shame would still burn.
Cool fingers slid over the back of my neck, curved around, and clamped tight like the iron collar I’d once worn. My heart raced too hard, thumped too fast.
“You’re a long way from home,” he purred, his voice achingly smooth.
Crater’s death, the bounty on my head, Hulia, The Boot, Marshal Kellee. Even Sota. They were frivolous things. Kesh Lasota’s trinkets and toys. And beneath the warfae’s touch, Kesh’s life fell away like one of the many illusions I wore. The truth of me was so very different from that ghost of a girl. I was the slave-raised gladiator stolen away from my home with only a name to call my own. I was the Wraithmaker, killer of thousands in the starlit, blood-soaked arena. I had been Queen Mab’s most-trusted personal guard. And I had loved her—until I’d killed her.
The warfae moved around me, keeping his grip clamped around my neck, until he stood in front of me, drilling his gaze deep into mine. “Were you planning on running forever?”
“Only a lifetime.” Mine.
His lips twitched. He liked that. He also liked the fact he had caught me. Before, when I chased him down and leapt from his window, he hadn’t known who I was. But there was no doubt on his face now. Something had revealed me to him. Sota. The truth I’d hidden inside the drone, told to him on lonely nights when I needed to speak the secrets eating me up inside, had condemned me. Larsen had probably only wanted the footage of Crater’s murder, but what he’d found was a priceless prize. And I’d told him everything through Sota. Told him all my fears and all the horrors, told him how I’d loved, hated, raged and lost it all. The warfae pretending to be the human CEO of Arcon, Istvan Larsen, believed he knew me better than anyone left alive. Only one question remained. What did he plan to do with me?
He closed his hand, sealing off my windpipe. My racing heart throbbed hot blood through my body and beat over and over inside my head. Tightness clamped around my chest, squeezing the consciousness right out of me. The darkness all around rushed in until the jewel-like glitter of his eyes was all I could see in an ocean of nothingness.
Chapter 12
Cool iron encircled my neck. I remembered it being lighter, or more likely it had felt that way because I hadn’t known a time without it. The iron dampened my magic, as it did all fae magic. My whip was gone, as was my coat. He’d stripped me of them and I knew it wouldn’t be the worst of what was to come.
He wouldn’t kill me. Not for a long time. The fae made their victims beg first.
“Stand.”
The order reminded me of another time, so long ago, when I’d been a small girl trapped behind bars. I’d survived that. I’d thrived. I’d lived to kill for them. I’d loved them for it, and they’d loved me in return. Loved me enough for Mab to pick me out of the saru and make me hers.
Fingers dug into my hair. The warfae yanked me to my feet, hooked his hand into my clothing and tore my shirt open. It wasn’t my human nakedness he wanted to see. Hypnotic dark swirls marked my pale skin. The marks of a killer. Awards. Just like his.
“It’s true…” he whispered, eyes wide.
I grinned. “Now show me yours.”
He threw me down. The backhanded strike cracked against my jaw, whipping my head back and exploding coppery blood across my tongue. I reeled, clutching onto consciousness, and spat the mouthful of blood in his general direction, hoping to dirty up his leather attire.