Shoot the Messenger (The Messenger Chronicles #1)

He lifted a hand to strike me again, and then he caught himself and stepped back, shaking out his aching, bloody fingers. “I will not kill you.” He’d figured out my little game. A quick death would be a mercy. “You are worth too much.”

“Cow-ard,” I slurred. He sneered down at me, and I beamed up at him. They were all so painfully beautiful, and he was no exception. I hated him, hated him so much it hurt more than any physical wound, but a horrible, treacherous part of me loved him too, and that made all this so much worse. “I preferred you as Larsen. At least that man had balls. Where are yours, little warfae?” I eyed his crotch, ignoring the bulge of his obvious endowment. “Been living with humans too long? You even smell like them—”

His hand was at my throat again, a little awkwardly this time as he had to fight with the collar. “Your queen isn’t here to save you. Why did you do it? Was it really just because you’re so stupid that even after everything my kind did for you—raised you up among us—you still can’t help but bite those you love like all wild beasts?”

Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. My heart pounded too hard, beating itself into a panic. I couldn’t breathe, and a part of me hoped it would end here, just to spite him. Then his grip loosened, and my body sucked in air, desperate to keep me alive.

I fell to my hands and concentrated on filling my lungs. So slowly, the world stopped spinning. The room I’d woken in was barren and lined in steel, probably a storage room. No windows and no doors. Nothing. Just him and me. I would have preferred the darkness.

“What’s your real name?” I asked.

He ignored me and leaned back against the wall, staring. Unblinking. His gaze traced my marks. I felt that slow visual exploration as if his fingers were skimming across my skin, or his tongue. Heat flushed my face, neck and chest. The heat of anger and twisted desire.

“What are you doing with Arcon?” I asked, not expecting an answer. I didn’t get one. He just stared down his nose at me.

Resting back, I flicked my hair out of my eyes and lifted my gaze. What must it be like to have captured the Wraithmaker, a criminal sought by the entire Fae system? Would he hand me over to his kin or keep me for himself? If he took me home, getting in and out of Faerie unseen would be no easy thing. Istvan Larsen was a watched man. If he decided to take a trip to outer Halow and happened to sneak through the defensive net…

I stopped my thoughts in their tracks. Arcon maintained the defensive net. The barrier between the Fae system and Halow. The first and last line of defense against the fae. Larsen held the key to the door and might let the fae in at any time. And the humans of Halow had no idea how exposed they were.

I rolled my lips and bowed my head, not wanting him to see the new fear on my face. He stepped forward and crouched, resting his wrists on his knees, long, nimble fingers loose.

“Did you dismantle my drone?” I blinked dry eyes, letting the dread sink into my gut.

“The drone…” His eyes narrowed with uncertainty. “Oh, your drone. Can you imagine my surprise when my workers cracked it open, revealing not only footage of the assassination, but also a full confession by a wanted murderer? I had wondered why a nobody messenger was so determined to retrieve that drone. You’ll be pleased to know any footage of Crater’s death was deleted. As for your murder confession…” He touched my cheek and delicately ran his fingertips across my skin. I fought my instinct to lean into the touch. It had been so long since their kind had touched me. So long since I’d tasted their magic and willingly embraced it. “Only you and I know the truth of that. It can be our secret.” Every word he spoke sounded like an illicit promise. It didn’t matter what those words meant, his tone was sweet seduction wrapped around the hard, ugly stone. He would use my weak human desires against me.

I gazed into his eyes, confused to find something akin to my own longing reflected there. Then it occurred to me that he was likely alone. He had spent years building up a resistance to tek. I might be the only fae-like creature he had seen in a long time. I could use that and the fae’s social desires to my advantage.

I touched his hand, the one covering my cheek and tilted my head up. “I had to tell someone the truth. Nobody likes to be alone.”

His eyes instantly hardened. He snatched his hand back and straightened. He paused at the door, head slightly turned, words unspoken on his lips, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him, accompanied by the chunky snick of a lock.

I still didn’t know if Sota was alive. But I was, for now. I had one advantage over Larsen. He would think me human. He would think he was irresistible. That he held all the power. He was wrong.



Time passed too slowly. Nothing of the world outside breached the room, as though my four walls were all that existed.

My stomach cramped with hunger pangs, and my lips had cracked. I’d been missing two days, at least. Only, nobody missed me. Hulia would likely think I was a long way from Calicto, and the marshal…

Would Kellee miss me?

If he had listened to my warnings, he would have left and not looked back. He should have left. But while I didn’t know him well, I did know he wasn’t the quitting type. Twice he had tracked me down, asking his damn questions. I had faith he would locate me again—if he wanted to. Wraithmaker. The fae had killed his people. All of them. And in his eyes, I was fae too. Still, he knew enough about Istvan Larsen to watch the pretend CEO closely. Maybe if I got a message to Kellee, he could alert the authorities to the vulnerabilities in the defense net.

If anything, I was in the best place to act. Nobody could get closer to Larsen. No human, certainly. Luck had put me right where I needed to be to stop him. Not luck… It was always meant to be this way.

The door rattled, and Larsen entered. He threw a robe to the floor. “Put that on and follow me.”

I rose on unsteady legs and tugged on the toweling robe. My first steps outside the room revealed more steel-lined walls. Larsen opened another door, to a simple, functional bathroom.

“You have fifteen minutes.” He closed the door, leaving me alone. I waited for the lock to slide into place but didn’t hear it. After a few beats, I tried the door, cracking it open.

Larsen’s voice sailed down the corridor. “There’s nowhere to go.”

I would soon test that for myself, after I’d cleaned up.

The mirror above the basin reflected a dapple of yellow and purplish bruises spreading across my cheek. I’d repay him for that once I had control of the situation.

The dry-shower felt as though it stripped off a layer of skin. Clean, I stepped out and threw my pants back on. I discarded my torn shirt and pulled the robe on over my shoulders, tying it tightly.

The corridor outside was empty. I didn’t believe for a second Larsen had left me unguarded. Light-footed, I dashed away from where I believed he was. The few doors I found opened into empty rooms. No windows. Were we underground? Every door, every curve, took me to another artificially lit empty space, until I entered the largest room of all. At least here there was a table and a single chair. And Larsen.

He stood on the opposite side of the table, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sparkling.

Several packets of dried food lay on the table between us. My hollow insides ached. This wasn’t Faerie. If I accepted his reward of food, it didn’t mean I was indebted to him, but I hesitated. Old habits still had their claws in me.

“Eat freely.” He gestured at the table. “Unfettered.”

There would come a time to fight, and when the opportunity presented itself, I needed to be ready. I sat and opened the packets, devouring the contents under his watchful gaze. The food was nothing spectacular, but it filled me out and stopped the cramps.

When he placed a tall glass of clear liquid on the table, I stopped eating and eyed it side-on. Surely not…

“I can afford some luxuries,” he explained, sensing my hesitation.

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