Her Vengeful Embrace: An Island of Ys Novel

by Katee Robert

  The silence ticked out in seconds and minutes, until Zhao finally smiled. That smile hurt. It was like looking at an older version of her brother after a life well-lived. She hated it. She hated that he’d flourished at the suffering of innocents. Her siblings thought his putting his own children into that place was the worst of his sins. Amarante felt differently. They hadn’t deserved it. Of course they hadn’t deserved it. But better she and Ryu shoulder that burden than the hundreds of other kids who came into that place, never to leave.

  Dark thoughts, but then that was her existence. Dark and darker.

  Zhao leaned back, seeming perfectly at ease. “You surprise me.” He considered her as if she’d only just now walked into the room, rather than been sitting here for damn near ten minutes. “But then, you’ve always been a bit of a spider in her web, haven’t you? You get that from me.”

  I get nothing from you. She barely kept the words locked down. He wanted an emotional response and she refused to give it to him. Amarante studied her nails. “If you wanted small talk, you could have picked up a phone.”

  He chuckled, the very image of an indulgent father. “I think we both know that wouldn’t have gone the way I wanted.”

  “We’ll never know.”

  “I suppose we won’t.” He kept smiling, but the humor bled out of his eyes. “It’s time to come home, Amarante. For both you and your brother.”

  Shock shorted out her thoughts. Amarante prided herself on being several steps ahead of everyone else in the room. It was the only way to operate when so much hung in the balance. She’d prepared herself for threats, for assassination, for violence. She’d even considered that he’d try to pay her off to avoid dealing with the Horsemen’s vendetta. Not this. Never this. “What did you say?”

  “Come home.” He spread his arms a little as if in welcome. “You’ve more than proven yourself worthy of holding the position of heir.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Against every bit of training she had, she glanced at Tristan, but he looked just as confused as she was before he locked down his expression. There would be no clarification from that corner, but she shouldn’t have expected it. Amarante refocused on Zhao. When she spoke, only the tiniest bit of hoarseness in her voice betrayed her. “You expect me to believe that the last twenty-five years were all some kind of intricate proving ground.”

  “I don’t particularly care what you believe, daughter. It’s time to come home.”

  He kept saying that, his tone imperial, as if he honestly expected her to bow and scrape at his feet for the honor. Amarante sat back, the only bit of movement she’d allow herself despite the frantic energy bubbling up beneath her skin. She would not let it surface. She would not. “I’m not interested in your offer.”

  “It’s not an offer. It’s a command to step into the role waiting for you.” His smile never faltered, all fake warmth and amusement at her antics. His eyes stayed so, so cold.

  Just like hers were when she looked in the mirror after dealing with anyone who wasn’t her family.

  Stop it. Stop comparing yourself to this man. He may share your blood, but he is not your father and you would never facilitate the kind of evil he has.

  All Amarante’s victims were willing, people with more money than sense who came to her island. They knew the risks when they walked into her territory, and if they lost something in the mix, they had only themselves to blame. They were adults with free will. They were not children snatched from their homes or sold by their families.

  Zhao leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “You’re still harboring anger. It’s to be expected, but it’s not serving a purpose at this point. Let it go.”

  Let it go.

  As if it was really that easy. Just shuck off ten years of pain and fear and literal torture. Another fifteen of clawing her way to the top and bringing her siblings with her, of doing whatever it took to ensure they were never at another person’s mercy ever again.

  Rage crystalized inside her, banishing the confusion and shock. She’d feel it later when she was alone, would take it out and pick it apart until she felt in control again. She didn’t have that luxury right now. “Did you have an offer? Or were you just planning on issuing a command and hoping for the best?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, daughter, I have an offer. You and your brother come back to my estate in China. You’re welcomed home like the prodigal children, and you assume the place meant for you as my right hand.”

  “Your right hand.” She flicked a glance at Tristan. He’d shut down completely, his expression offering her nothing but a blank slate. No way to tell what he was thinking about all this. “I was under the impression that the position’s filled.”

  “Ah, that.” Zhao waved it away. “Tristan is meant to serve. You are meant to rule. Our operations are a family affair. No outsider will inherit.”

  There were times, when she was young and scared and trying so desperately hard to be strong for the others, when she would have crawled over broken glass for an offer like this. To be the honored daughter with a destiny. To put aside all the responsibilities she carried on her shoulders, at least for a little while.

  She wasn’t that scared girl anymore.

  “And if I decline?”

  “You won’t.”

  The sheer audacity of him made her laugh. “Does every person you meet fall over themselves to do whatever you want?”

  “Call it a side effect of the position.” He straightened. “But I’m feeling magnanimous. Allow me to convince you.”

  A brilliant play, really. He knew she wouldn’t agree outright. He wasn’t a stupid man, and he would have prepared for any eventuality just like she did. Whether this whole production was meant to seduce her back into the fold or simply let her guard down so he could remove her… In the end, it didn’t matter.

  She’d come to finish this, and that meant she had to dance to his tune.

  At least temporarily.

  Amarante smiled. “By all means, convince me.”

  Chapter 6

  Tristan didn’t believe in hell, but if it existed, it was a dinner with Amarante and Zhao. They filled the space with carefully curated sentences and barbed words, both trying to edge around each other without offering anything in return. It was fucking exhausting. Give him a straight fight over this politicking and he was a happy man. He could play the game, but he resented the need to.

  Playing the game with Amarante was a special kind of torment.

  Dinner came to a close without either of them giving up anything, but it was only the first day. There were four more where this came from, a small eternity and nowhere near long enough. He had no intention of following Zhao’s orders to keep his hands off her. Whether she intended to or not, Amarante had opened the door on them. The tiniest of opportunities, but Tristan had worked with worse odds over the years. Amarante was worth the risk. More than worth it.

  While he was considering how the hell he’d get her alone again, Amarante and her escort left the room first. Zhao took a sip of his wine, considering the door she’d just walked through. “She’ll come around.”

  Tristan doubted it. Zhao was used to people doing whatever he wanted and trying to anticipate his needs. Amarante bowed to no one. She had her own reasons for being here and they had nothing to do with angling for a position within the Zhao empire. Saying as much wouldn’t earn him any favors, though. “Yes, sir.”

  Zhao chuckled. “Go entertain yourself. I know how you hate to sit still.”

  Tristan didn’t have a father. Oh, he had one somewhere, but the man hadn’t stuck around longer than it took to be a sperm donor. His mother hadn’t stayed long enough for him to have memories of her, either. Such was the way of his world, and he didn’t waste time and energy bemoaning it. He knew better than to look at Zhao as a stand-in for a parental figure, but the old man liked to play the part when it suited him. “Guilty.”

  He made it three steps before Zhao’s voice stopped him. “I
’ll be incredibly disappointed if you do something to negatively affect my plans for this summit.”

  Tristan fought down a flare of anger at the man’s words. By the time he turned around, he had his mask in place. “Of course, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m going to find Nic and get into a little sanctioned trouble.”

  Zhao gave him a long look. “Don’t be late tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” He made a swift exit and headed away from the elevators. With each step, his irritation threatened to get the better of him. First he sent Tristan to play distraction, and now he wanted him to stay away from her. What the fuck did Zhao think he was going to accomplish with this? Tristan had thought it was a simple intimidation meeting to get the Horsemen to back off. The other three could burn for all he cared, but his wouldn’t be the hand that lifted against Amarante.

  But this? This was something else altogether. Surely Zhao realized that Amarante wouldn’t play ball, and she sure as fuck wouldn’t be softened up into forgiving him the legion of sins committed against her.

  He wound his way deeper into the Warren, needing movement more than he needed a destination. He turned a corner and stopped short. His surprised lasted only as long as it took for him to realize it was Nari standing in the hallway, not Amarante. They only looked similar on a superficial level—both Chinese with a slim build and long straight black hair—but that hesitation would have meant his death if that’s what Nic wanted.

  What the hell was she doing here? Amarante should be back in her room by now.

  He noted the studied way Nari slouched against the wall near a nondescript door. Ah. So Amarante hadn’t gone back to her room after all. He walked forward slowly, giving Nari plenty of time to see him coming. As if she hadn’t clocked him the second he rounded the corner. It was professional courtesy, that’s all. “Nari.”

  “Keep walking, Tristan.” If he needed further confirmation that Amarante was behind that door, her words gave it to him.

  He held up his hands, painting an innocent expression on his face. “I’m just looking to talk.”

  “That’s bullshit. You know the rules.” She didn’t have an obvious weapon on her, but she didn’t need one. Nari was one of Nic’s best. Tristan was relatively sure he could take her down if he needed to, but relatively sure wasn’t one hundred percent.

  “Death has no need to fear me.”

  Nari rolled her eyes. “No shit, really?” She propped her hands on her narrow hips. “That’s not the point and you know it. I heard about the mess you made last night. I’m not in the mood to clean up after you two, and that’s exactly what Nic’s punishment will be if I let you in that room.”

  He could get in before she could stop him. They might grapple a bit, but eventually he’d topple her. Then he’d be through the door and—

  No. It was too big of a risk for too little a reward. Amarante was just as likely to kick his ass today as she had been last night, probably more so. And if she made a stink about it, news would get back to Zhao and he’d be fucked. Damn it.

  Tristan held up his hands. “I’ll be good.”

  “And I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  He didn’t get a chance to move. The door opened and Amarante stood there. She didn’t seem any different than she had during the meeting, cool and disinterested and so beautiful it hurt to look at her, just a little. She swept a look over him. “It’s fine, Nari.”

  “Ms. Death—”

  “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

  Nari looked between them and cursed. “Understand that I’m calling this in and that you’ll be watched for the duration of your conversation.”

  “Naturally.” Amarante didn’t look away from Tristan as she moved back a step and then another. Allowing him into the room. He wasted no time following her and closing the door behind him. A quick look around found two cameras perching in opposite corners of the room. There would be mics somewhere, but that was the rule when it came to the Warren. Every move was watched. Every word was listened to. The room itself was a board room nearly identical to the one they’d left a little while ago; a table dominating the middle of the room with a handful of chairs on either side.

  Amarante didn’t retreat to put the table between them, but he should have known she wouldn’t. She just leaned back against it and watched him. “Did you know he was taking this angle?”

  “No.” No reason to lie. It wouldn’t serve a purpose and, frankly, he was fucking pissed by the whole situation.

  She gave a soft laugh. “I don’t know why I ask. You won’t tell me the truth.”

  “You’re one to talk about honesty, Te.” He should have kept his shit locked down, but all he could hear were Zhao’s words echoing through his head. She’s not meant for you.

  Amarante was too good for him. He knew that, had known from the moment he met her that she stood on a pedestal above the rest of the world. Tristan didn’t give a fuck if he didn’t deserve her. They were two kindred souls and they both recognized it as idiot kids. Life had just gotten twisted up in the meantime. That didn’t mean he was going to set aside everything he wanted simply because Zhao had finally decided to realize what a treasure his daughter was.

  She didn’t look away, but then Amarante never met a challenge she wouldn’t rise to. “Shall we do this, then? You’ve obviously been chewing on it for the last ten years.”

  “You left me.” The words felt torn from his chest. Too honest. He was never this fucking honest. “Your brother finally leveled up enough to get the money you wanted and you walked the fuck away from me without looking back.”

  She didn’t blink. “It’s interesting how you rewrite history.”

  There was no rewriting the feeling of her ripping his still-beating heart from his chest and taking it with her when she left. Tristan had never had a chance at normal. Normal wasn’t for people like them. Worrying about colleges and mortgages and bills? What did that shit matter when they’d fought their way back from the brink of death time and time again before they turned eighteen? “You left.”

  “You took a job with my father.”

  “It was always meant to be temporary. I came back and you’d already cleared out.”

  She shook her head slowly. “Of course I left.”

  “I didn’t know he was the one behind Camp Bueller.” Not until a few months ago, and he still hadn’t figured out what to do with the information when Zhao sent him after Ryu.

  “Maybe not at first.” She sliced her hand through the air. “But you knew who he was to me.”

  “Christ, Te, what do you want me to say? You weren’t going to take me with you when you hit your big break. You know it and I know it. You were too busy taking care of your precious siblings.”

  Her eyes flashed. “We’re not talking about them.”

  “The fuck we aren’t. They were the albatross around your neck then, and they are now, too.”

  She shoved off the table. “Some of us understand loyalty, Tristan. Some of us know that you can’t just cut a person loose because they might not be worth the investment. Some of us understand love.”

  “I understand love, Te.”

  “No, you fucking don’t.” She seemed to realize her volume had gotten away with her and tried to dial it back. “Love means sacrifice and loyalty and a whole list of traits you don’t have. You’re a monster, Tristan.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She opened her mouth but seemed to reconsider what she’d been about to say. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before she reclaimed her position leaning against the table. “That makes two of us,” she confirmed.

  He hated that she acted like it was a bad thing, when being a monster was the only thing that made them willing to do what it took to stay alive. “They never appreciated what it took to survive; not like you did. They sure as shit don’t appreciate what you did for them.” He moved forward, unable to resist the pull of her. “What you’re still doing for them. That’s why you�
��re here, isn’t it? Sacrifice yourself so those assholes can ride off into the sunset together with fewer scars on their souls.”

  Amarante lifted her chin. “Someone has to bear the burden. Better me than anyone else.”

  He wanted to shake her, to shove the knowledge of her worth into her head once and for all. She’d always had skewed priorities. “You’re worth ten times any of them.”

  “Tristan…” She shook her head. “You can’t honestly think this is going to work. He offers the sweet and you come in with the sour, and between the two of you, you prod me into playing the part of obedient daughter.”

  Tristan should let her keep believing that. It would protect himself and probably protect her in the bargain. He’d never been one for lying, though. Not with this woman. “I stopped being here for him the second you told me to kiss you.”

  “If you say so.”

  He reached out but Amarante grabbed his wrist before his fingers made contact with her hair. She gave him a sharp smile. “I can’t be accountable for what happens if you touch me.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” He pushed forward, all too aware that she allowed it, and sank his hands into her hair at the base of her skull. Tristan took the last step to bring them flush together. Fuck, she felt good. Lean and strong and dangerous in a way that had his cock going hard. “I missed you, Te.”

  “Stop saying that,” she whispered.

  “It’s the truth.”

  Amarante kissed him. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she only did it to shut him up, but Tristan was willing to play dirty. He’d keep talking until she silenced him over and over again, until they ground down the walls time and betrayal had built between them.

  He drowned in the taste of her, knowing this could end at any moment. Amarante fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer yet. She nipped his bottom lip, the sharp bite of pain only driving the pleasure of being this close to her higher. He tugged on her hair, tilting her face up to allow him to deepen the kiss. He wanted to keep kissing her forever, until the world fell away and Zhao disappeared and she stopped worrying so fucking much about a trio of adults who could take care of themselves. Until all she knew was him.