by Katee Robert
“Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t slump back against the wall after the elevator doors closed, but he wanted to. Now that his adrenaline was bottoming out, his balls fucking ached from where Amarante had grabbed them. A shady ass move and he admired her all the more for doing it. Winning at any cost was the name of the game. Normal people didn’t like hearing that shit. They wanted things to be fair and easy and not rock the boat too much. More normal people hadn’t reached the sheer levels of desperation Tristan had as a kid. The same levels Amarante had experienced, though she’d never admit as much now.
Winning at any cost.
He’d do well to remember that.
He wasn’t even surprised to find Kale standing there when the doors opened. The big Samoan man towered over everyone in any room he walked into, but he looked particularly large in the narrow hallway. He didn’t return Tristan’s easy smile, but then he never did. “Boss man wants you.”
Tristan let his grin fall away. He didn’t need to play pretend for these people. The only things they responded to were fear and power, and he had both in spades. A decade of doing whatever was required of him had created a reputation that only the most foolish in Zhao’s organization were willing to fuck with. It didn’t stop people from trying at times, but the challenges to his authority had decreased as the years went on. Tristan wasn’t stupid enough to let down his guard, though. “By all means, lead the way.”
Kale turned and strode to the end of the hall. He was light on his feet for such a big man, a fact that always surprised his enemies. His size led them to underestimate them, and he took full advantage of it. Tristan made a habit never to tangle with Kale if he could avoid it. The man hit like a freight train.
They’d set up Zhao in the suite that seemed large enough to encompass half the floor. The Warren was tricky, though. Because only part of it was exposed to the mountainside and the rest was inside the mountain itself, no one knew exactly how big it was or had anything resembling blueprints. It had been designed that way, but it still irritated Tristan not to know all the exits. Add in the secondary set of ways to get around that only Nic and his staff used, and it was impossible to map.
He slipped off his shoes after he walked through the door and headed to where Zhao sat in front of a fireplace taller than he was. The Chinese man was built shorter and more delicately than either of his children, but he exuded power and danger more than anyone Tristan had ever met. He turned as Tristan approached and took in his shirtless state. “Trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sir.” The bowing and scraping and politicking weren’t Tristan’s favorite, but he’d learned to fake it in order to climb the ranks. Now the faux deference came as second nature when he was in this man’s presence. “She arrived a few hours ago, and she came alone like you suspected she would.” Zhao’s little game of bait and switch with his children had paid off. The other three Horsemen had gone to NYC to deal with the threat Tristan presented, clearing the way for Amarante—for Death—to come here without interference.
It spoke volumes that Zhao went through such lengths to separate them.
“Good.” Zhao folded his hands, appearing perfectly relaxed. A lie that Tristan wasn’t foolish enough to believe. He’d seen the man order countless deaths with that same calm expression on his face. “You know your task, Tristan. I trust you won’t disappoint me.”
“Of course not, sir.” He kept any annoyance from his face. “I’ll keep Death distracted.” He was grateful for the command, if only because it gave him the freedom to do what he was already planning on doing—pursue Amarante.
Zhao turned to look at the large screen that took up the wall opposite the door. It served the purpose of a window, showing a snowy mountainside even though they were encased completely in rock. A lie, but a good one from the technology. If he didn’t get close enough to examine it, he might have believed they had one of the outward facing rooms…that didn’t exist. All guest rooms in the Warren were enclosed.
The better to keep the occupants safe—and from endangering others with nighttime escapades.
“Tristan, I like you.”
The small hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. This was bad. “I’m glad to hear that, sir.”
“I would be devastated to lose you. You’re an invaluable member of my organization.” Zhao slowly rotated back to face him. He still looked calm and relaxed, but there was no denying the threat. “If you touch my daughter, I’ll be forced to take action.”
Considering Amarante’s taste still lingered on his tongue—considering he fully intended to kiss her again at the earliest opportunity—he managed to keep his reaction under wraps. “I understand, sir.”
“There are times when I will allow you to bend within the boundaries of my command. This is not one of them. She’s not meant for you.”
Only years of training kept Tristan from asking who the fuck Zhao thought Amarante was meant for. He knew what this summit was about. The old man had his plans within plans within plans, and he always had. He wanted something from the daughter he’d sent to hell as a child, and he’d do whatever it took to ensure he reached the objective he sought.
Was he trying to bring her back into the fold? Surely not. Tristan would never have considered Zhao delusional, but he was exactly that if he thought Amarante would bend a knee to him. She was far more likely to cut him off at them.
He realized he hadn’t responded and cleared his throat. “I understand, sir.”
Zhao studied him for a long moment. His dark eyes were so similar to Amarante’s, though he doubted either of them would appreciate the comparison. Finally, Zhao nodded, almost to himself. “You’ll sit at my right hand tomorrow. Ensure that you’re not late.”
“Yes, sir.”
This time, when Zhao turned around, it was an obvious dismissal. Tristan didn’t allow himself to sigh in relief. He simply nodded at Kale, collected his shoes, and walked out the door. He kept his strides even as he moved down the hall to his room. It was only when he closed the door that he allowed the tiniest bit of steam to release. “That motherfucker.”
She’s not meant for you.
Twelve years working for Zhao, and it hardly all boiled down to this, but it fucking stung. He threw his daughter away like trash, like worse than trash, because at least trash isn’t tortured and abused for years on end. She could have died in that camp. Tristan had looked into it quietly a few months ago when he realized that Zhao was the one responsible for Camp Bueller. Finding information was difficult. When the camp was shut down, it was shut down as if it’d never existed aside from a rumor. The adults there were cockroaches fleeing the light. The children?
Even as cold as he was, there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Camp Bueller crossed every single one of them gleefully.
He stopped. Inhaled. Exhaled.
At the end of the day, it didn’t fucking matter what Zhao wanted. It didn’t even matter what Amarante wanted. Everyone was in the Warren with their own agenda, and that included Tristan.
What he wanted above all else was Amarante.
Chapter 5
Even though Amarante knew it was coming, she wasn’t prepared for the twisting in her stomach when the phone in her room rang. Maybe if she’d slept better last night, she’d feel calmer. Or if she hadn’t grappled with Tristan until their mouths found each other and only remembered herself at last moment. She needed her thoughts in order for the meeting in an hour, but first she had to head this argument off at the pass.
Her voice was perfectly even when she answered. “Yes?”
“I don’t fucking believe you.”
She closed her eyes and strove for calm. Ryu, her little brother. “Did you have any problems getting back to the island?”
Someone made a noise perilously close to a growl and she realized she was on speaker phone with all her siblings. Sure enough, Luca spoke next. “We’re getting on the next plane up there. Don’t do anything until we arrive.”
&
nbsp; “No.” The word came out too sharp, but there was no going back now. “I’ve already instructed Nicholai not to grant you entrance or it will cause an incident.”
“Then I’m about to cause a fucking incident, Te. You promised to give us time to figure out a way to him without endangering you.”
She swallowed hard. Thankfully, they couldn’t see her, or they’d know she wasn’t nearly as collected as she wanted to be. Her cracks were showing in a way she couldn’t afford. “I lied.”
Now it was Kenzie’s turn to pile on. “Screw Nicholai. I’ll kick his ass and then I’m going to kick yours. You lied. Fuck, Amarante, you know better than that. We lie to everyone else. Not to each other.”
They didn’t understand. They never really would, no matter how they tried. Ryu may be her brother by blood, but Luca and Kenzie where her siblings in every other way, too. They had suffered more while they were in Camp Bueller than anyone should suffer over the course of a lifetime. And now, against all logic, they were happy. They had partners. Luca and Cami would be starting a family shortly. They deserved peace and more.
She was the only one who could ensure that it would happen.
“He has an army, Kenzie.” Ryu sounded more tired than she’d ever heard him. “Every single person in that place is trained to kill, and they all answer to him. There’s no getting through. That’s the point.”
“But—”
He charged right over her, as relentless as the tide. “Even if you did manage to get to Zhao, even if you killed him, Amarante has presented herself as our leader. She still dies.”
“That is so fucked.”
Luca made that growling noise again. “Come home, Te. We’ll find another way. You’re not alone, no matter how much you like to pretend you’re the only one who can get the job done. There are other options.”
She truly wished there were. “If that were the case, we’d have found them by now.” Amarante closed her eyes and forced every bit of weakness from her voice. She couldn’t afford for them to doubt her, not when their very lives rode on them obeying. “Stay on the island. This will be over soon.” She hesitated. “I love you.” She hung up before they could get out their sea of protests.
If she concentrated, she could almost convince herself that her hand didn’t shake as she replaced the phone in its cradle. On second thought… she lifted the receiver and pushed the button to take her to the Warren’s staff. A man answered, his voice deep and calm. “Good morning, Ms. Death. How may I be of service?”
The reminder of who she was centered her. Death did not falter. “My siblings may attempt to contact me. Please take messages but do not forward their calls to my room.” This would be difficult enough without them attempting to dissuade her. There was no altering this course she’d set herself on. One way or another, hers would be the hand that took Zhao Fai down. Now the only thing that remained was ensuring none of her siblings were harmed in the process. They had too much to live for now. She wouldn’t allow them to torpedo their lives for her.
“Of course. We’ll see it done.” The man paused. “Would you like me to pass on any message to Nicholai?”
“Yes. Please tell him to remember our terms and not to allow any of the other Horsemen on the grounds for the duration of the summit.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” She hung up, but taking that step did nothing to quell the nervous energy sparking at her nerve endings. So many years’ work would come to fruition in thirty minutes. It seemed surreal, and for the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she wasn’t sure how things would play out. Zhao—her father—had been an enigma in so many ways. A powerful man. Now she knew him to be an evil man, too, but that didn’t surprise her. No one came to that much power with clean hands. But the sheer scope of his sins left her breathless if she thought about it too hard.
She rose and walked to the full-length mirror. She’d dressed carefully for this meeting. Her three piece suit was deceptively feminine, from the wide-legged pants that would allow her free movement if she needed to fight to the reinforced panels in the vest that would protect her torso from the worst of any blows. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it didn’t need to in the Warren. No guns allowed. Her heels were high enough to be weapons all of their own, but that was the only thing she had on her person. They had searched her luggage like she knew they would—the Island of Ys did the same thing—and so she hadn’t tried to sneak any conventional weapons in.
She touched the pen tucked into the pocket on the inside of her jacket. A pen, yes. It even wrote. But it contained a poison that, when injected, would result in death within two minutes.
She was as ready as she’d ever be. Anything more was simply procrastinating and showing up late was out of the question.
Amarante took a slow breath all the way down to the bottom of her lungs, held it for a few seconds, and released it slowly. There could be no mistakes. She had to do this perfectly, which was a special kind of hell since she still wasn’t quite sure why Zhao had set up this meeting. It was entirely possible it was all a scheme to get her out of the safety of the island to where he could take her out, but he’d instructed Tristan to actually take Ryu.
She didn’t understand, and she didn’t like that she didn’t understand.
And Tristan?
There was no use thinking about Tristan at all. Last night was a fluke. It had to be. Fight or flight did strange things to a body’s chemistry, releasing chemicals that could confuse a person. It’s the only reason fighting almost turned to fucking. Knowing that would help her keep her guard up. Tristan had betrayed her. There was no going back after that; not to friendship and certainly not to the kind of trust required for sex. A person was vulnerable when they were intimate with another in the most basic way possible. She couldn’t allow it to happen with him.
Again.
She opened her door and stopped at the sight of a young Chinese woman standing there wearing a simple and elegant black suit. She was almost the same height as Amarante and her hair was done in a similarly simple style, though the length was a little shorter. She held out a hand. “Nari. I’ll be your escort while you’re on the premises.”
Amarante shook her hand. “My escort and body double?”
Nari smiled. “Nicholai likes to plan for every eventuality. It’s a simple precaution and almost certainly unnecessary.”
Almost certainly unnecessary wasn’t the same thing as being sure, but she could appreciate Nicholai’s thoroughness. After all, she’d have done the same thing if she ran an organization like this. “Do all guests receive this extra layer of protection?”
“No.”
That answered that. He wasn’t certain everyone would play by the rules. Amarante nodded. There was no use asking further questions and delaying her arrival. She wouldn’t know entirely what she was dealing with until she walked into that room, no matter how she’d attempted to prepare herself. “We should get moving then.”
Nari fell into step beside her, and within ten feet was mirroring her way of walking perfectly. It was strange and uncanny and Amarante didn’t like it in the least. She kept her silence.
Five minutes later, they stopped in front of the same plain black door Nicholai had shown her last night. No sound came from within, but that spoke more to the sound proofing than to it being empty.
Nari touched the door handle. “Two Warren representatives will be present during all negotiations as is our policy. If you make any attempt to break the rules, I will stop you using whatever force required, up to and including death.”
“I understand.” All she had to do was keep breathing, keep her calmness wrapped around her like a shield. It had never been a problem before, but she’d never been in this situation before. She had no other option but pushing forward.
“Good.” Nari opened the door and walked into the room, holding it wide so Amarante could follow her.
There were only three people in the large room. The lean Black
man stood behind two men sitting at the table, and she took him in quickly because he was easiest. Another Warren employee, present to prevent things from becoming messy. Her gaze fell on Tristan next. He wore another expensive suit with the same carelessness of the one yesterday. To him, clothing only served the most basic purpose. He didn’t need it like armor the way Amarante did. Tristan thought he was fucking bulletproof. He didn’t smile at her, didn’t give any indication that he’d been grinding on her less than twelve hours ago. Good. She had enough to deal with without having to dance around her misstep with him.
There was nowhere else to focus but on the older Chinese man to Tristan’s left. She’d seen pictures of Zhao Fai, but somehow they didn’t do him justice. Even sitting quietly while she stood, he exuded the kind of power that left her breathless. Amarante spent all her time around dangerous men. Her brothers were two of them. She never doubted that she was the more ruthless, the more dangerous, the one who others feared above all else.
That was no longer true.
He didn’t rise as she strode to the table, just took her in the same way she took him in. Amarante hated that she could see evidence of herself on his face, of Ryu. It was there in the slope of his nose, the shape of his face, the way his lips quirked the tiniest bit under her regard. Her father and the devil who dominated her past, all wrapped up in a single package she wanted nothing more than to crush into oblivion.
Instead she smiled and sank down to perch on her chair. She hadn’t called this meeting, so she would not be the first one speaking. It may seem petty, but bending even such a small amount this early would spell disaster. She still didn’t know what he wanted, and until she did, she couldn’t plan appropriately.
Amarante eyed the Warren employee behind Zhao. Between that man and Tristan, there was no way she could get to him before they stopped her. The pen worked similar to an EpiPen. It needed a full five seconds in place after it was injected for a lethal dose. Between Tristan and the other, she might get one, if she could even make contact. No, attacking now was out of the question. She had to play the game until she found a better opportunity.