by Katee Robert
He cleared his throat, the first sign of nervousness. “A proving ground, as I said.”
“Mmmm. Yes, you mentioned that. Several times.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I chose to hone my skills, to keep them honed, with the sole purpose of punishing those responsible once I learned their identities.” She gave him a long look. “To punish you.”
“We are sitting in the middle of the Warren.” A tiny tremor in his voice, gone as quickly as it arrived.
She’d spent the last forty-eight hours on the ropes, flailing from one reaction to another, dancing to the tune he set. It wasn’t until now, until she had icy rage to keep herself at a distance, that she could see his plan all along. If she was spending all her energy reacting, she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Did you weigh the odds? Killing me is risky, though I suppose you’ll be happy enough if your pet assassin pulls that off. But, barring that, you bring me home as the prodigal daughter returned. Your own little pet monster. And if I don’t bow and scrap appropriately, you can always kill me later, when you’re away from the Warren’s heavy consequences.”
“You’re speaking nonsense.”
“Am I?” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. In truth, she’d wasted too much time trying to divine out his intentions. She’d forgotten that she didn’t give a fuck what he wanted. The only thing she required was his life in payment for the horrors he’d perpetuated.
Truly, it was that simple.
For a moment, she thought he might lose control completely. He was made of stronger stuff than that, though. Zhao drew himself straight in his chair. “If we can’t come to an agreement, it will mean war. A costly venture in a number of ways, and a route I think it’s safe to say everyone would like to avoid.”
Amarante felt her smile go sharp. “That’s where you’re wrong, father. We’ve already been at war for years. This is simply the cumulation of those skirmishes.” She leaned forward. “No matter your numbers and allies, it’s not one you can win. Death is coming for you. I am coming for you.”
Chapter 15
By the end of the afternoon, Tristan had a list of ten assassins who could be the same person—Chimera. All were nondescript—medium skin tone, hair that ranged from muddy blonde to muddy brunette, features that were utterly forgettable. When Nic walked back into the room, Tristan all but threw them at him. “You’re going to want your computer geeks to verify. I’m sure they can do something with computers to see the bone structure beneath. But, best guess, these are all our assassin.”
Nic paged through the list, his eyebrows rising. “More than I expected.”
“Makes sense, though. Their whole thing is being multiple people at once, which means they’re one hell of a chameleon. With how paranoid most guilds are, it’s no wonder they have multiple identities, even within our world.”
“Indeed,” Nic murmured.
Tristan tried and failed to hold onto his patience. “Now that you’re done keeping me occupied all day with busywork, can I leave?”
“Yes.” He moved out of the doorway and motioned for Tristan to precede him. “But if she doesn’t want to see you, the Warren will respect her wishes.”
Something there, something in his friend’s tone. He glared. “You’re the one who trapped me in her room last night.”
“Yes, well, you weren’t supposed to be there.” Nic didn’t blink. “None of that changes the rules, Tristan. Break them again, and I’ll be forced to act.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.” He was so close to having the one thing he’d barely dared hope for—Amarante back in his life. He wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way. Not even friendship would be enough to save Nic if he tried to keep Tristan from her.
His friend’s brows rose. “You’re feral for her.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Does she know?”
“Know what?” He turned to the door.
“That you’re totally gone for her?”
Tristan didn’t stop. “I’ve been gone for her from the moment I met her. She knows.” Whether or not she realized the implications… Amarante was one of the smartest people he’d ever met. That being said, she had a strange sort of blind spot when it came to people she cared about. Her siblings were one thing. That relationship was established through shared trauma and survival. Even as she held herself apart from them, they were a family in every way that counted. She might doubt their use for her once the party responsible for their childhood horrors was removed, but she wouldn’t leave them voluntarily unless she absolutely had to.
Unless she was sure her absence would be the very thing that would keep them safe.
Her feelings for Tristan were more complicated. Part of that was his fault. But part of it was just the deep fear Amarante held that she didn’t deserve anything resembling happiness. Not that she’d ever admit such a thing. Tristan saw, though. He always saw her.
Nic followed him out into the hallway and they fell into step together as they headed for the elevator. “She told Zhao that she was going to kill him.”
The news brought him a strange mix of pride and fear. “She’s more than capable of it.”
“I don’t doubt that. But if she attempts it while in the Warren, I will skin her alive.”
Tristan moved before he realized his intention. He blinked and had Nic against the wall, his forearm against his friend’s throat. “You touch her, I’ll kill you myself.”
Nic didn’t move other than to narrow his eyes. “You know how this works, Tristan. There are rules for a reason. She breaks them, then I have no choice.”
“Zhao broke them first.”
“I have no proof of that without the assassin, and they’re in the wind.”
He dropped his arm and stepped back. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
“You’ll try.” Nic shook his head. “Keep her from going after Zhao and it will be a non-issue.”
It seemed simple enough, but Tristan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Amarante had only shown up for this summit bullshit to murder her father. She didn’t give a fuck about the consequences because she fully expected to suffer them. Anything for her fucking family.
If he was a better person, he wouldn’t resent the hell out of her siblings. Where the hell were they while she was here playing the part of sacrificial lamb? Off on their island paradise, playing with their new fuck toys. Amarante had shouldered their burdens countless times over the years, and they were letting her do it again now.
He took another step back. “I’ll handle it.”
A conflicted expression flickered over Nic’s face. “The rules apply to you, too. They have to.”
“I’m aware.” He turned and stalked for the elevator. The entire ride back to the main floor, he didn’t speak, letting his mind chip away at the problem. There was a way through this. He simply had to get enough time and distance to figure it out.
A problem since time and distance were two things he didn’t have jack shit of right now.
He stepped off the elevator. “I’m going up to my room, so you don’t have to worry your pretty head about my breaking the rules.”
“I’m worried about more than that, you asshole.” Nic shook his head. “Get some rest. You look like shit.”
“Yeah, yeah.” It took another ten minutes to make it back to his room. A shower and a change of clothes didn’t magically reveal a path forward that wouldn’t get the whole lot of them killed.
He wouldn’t be able to talk reason into Amarante. She was justified in her need for vengeance. For her to be this close… She wouldn’t turn away for god or angels. No, this only ended with Zhao’s death, which was the one thing Tristan couldn’t allow to happen. The man deserved to die, but the price was too high to do it here. There had to be another way.
He stopped. There was a way. A shitty, underhanded way. Something akin to guilt rose at the thought, but Tristan ignored it. He’d never played fair. He wasn’t about to start now, not
with Amarante’s very life on the line.
It took a minute to bottle it all back up, to shove down his stress and anger and fear. To smooth out everything until he looked just as unruffled as ever. His hands didn’t shake as he buttoned up his shirt and paused in front of the mirror to ensure everything appeared as it should. It was like looking a week into the past. He’d known he’d see Amarante again; it was inevitable with Zhao targeting the Horsemen. She’d come after them for attempting to take her brother, let alone the other shit they’d pulled. Even knowing that, he’d had an icy wall between him and the world. A necessary thing to ensure his survival.
He turned from the mirror and headed for the door. The hallway was empty, but he expected that. To have his own man stationed outside his door spoke of fear, and Zhao would never make that kind of misstep. Perception was its own kind of battle. Strength beget strength. If he acted paranoid and as if he was afraid, people would assume he could be killed and someone would eventually decide to give it a shot.
Tristan knocked, two quick raps. The door opened immediately to reveal Zhao himself. That, more than anything, spoke to how Amarante must have rattled him today. He was instinctively trying to prove dominance. Did he realize it? Tristan was never sure when it came to Zhao.
The man stepped back, allowing him into the room. “You’ve been busy.”
“You instructed me to stay out of the way.” He shrugged and carefully turned to face the other man. “I’m keeping myself occupied.”
“With my daughter.”
Interesting that he had eyes on her room. Either that, or the assassin had already reported in. Though that didn’t make sense. Contact while Zhao remained in the Warren was a risk; Nic may be able to track it and use it as proof that Zhao was in violation of the rules. No, this must be something significantly more mundane. He shrugged again. “You knew what she was to me when you recruited me all those years ago.”
Zhao’s mouth thinned. “I gave you everything, boy. You owe me everything.”
“Agree to disagree.” It felt strange to talk back like this. He usually tried to keep polite and professional and avoid Zhao’s legendary ire. Tristan simply didn’t give a fuck any more. “You picked me up because you had a use for me, and I’ve more than provided on that investment for the last ten years. Now, my plans lay elsewhere.”
Zhao narrowed his eyes. “I never took you for a romantic, Tristan. It’s embarrassing. You can’t truly think she wants you. You betrayed her and we both know she’s not a woman capable of forgiving and forgetting. She may have a use for you right now, but that ends the moment the summit does. This doesn’t finish with the two of you riding off into the sunset together. It ends in blood and death for everyone she’s connected to.”
There it was. Zhao’s true aim. Interesting that he misrepresented it to Tristan initially. All the bluster about Amarante being meant for someone other than him… Apparently, Zhao meant Death himself. The irony might make him laugh if they were talking about anyone else.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve done a hell of a job following through on that. Why bother with the summit here if that was always your aim?”
“It’s not for you to question me.”
It would have been too much to ask for Zhao to monologue a bit at him and give all the pertinent details. Oh well. He’d have to figure it out later. Right now, he had a woman to save from herself. “She’s going to kill you.”
Zhao sneered. “She wouldn’t dare break the hospitality of the Warren.”
“Just like you wouldn’t?” Tristan raised his brows when the other man’s expression went stony. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. The difference between you is that she’s not afraid to die as long as she takes you out with her. She will kill you, Zhao. You’ve been relying on others to do your dirty work for too long. She’s better than you are.”
“Your threats are ridiculous.”
“Not threats. Predictions. She will kill you before you leave the summit, and she will die for doing it. Those are the facts. I’m not sure how she plans on taking care of you, but Amarante has always been ingenious when it comes to death. It is her moniker, after all.”
Understanding dawned in Zhao’s dark eyes. “You want to save her.” He barked out a laugh. “She’ll gut you once she learns you were here.”
Probably. “I can’t win her back if she’s dead.”
“Tristan.” Zhao shook his head. “She’s dead either way. You must know that I can’t allow her to continue to undermine my operations.”
Yeah, he did know that. Which was why he’d find a way to bring Zhao down to remove the threat he posed. But not here. Not like this. “You let me take care of that.”
Now interest sharpened the other man’s face. “You think you can convince her to alter her path?”
No. He didn’t think that for a moment. Tristan could be stubborn as fuck, but he wasn’t an idiot. Amarante had been set on this path for revenge—for justice—since she was seven years old and this fucker had dumped her in that place. “Love makes people act against their best interests all the time. No reason that can’t apply to this situation.” Just not in the way he wanted Zhao to believe.
The man sighed. “You present a compelling argument.”
“I do that from time to time.”
“You’re missing one key element, though.”
Damn it, he’d known this was coming. Tristan kept his posture easy and relaxed. “What’s that?”
“There’s only one way to retire from my operations.”
Death.
It always came back to death. In the most literal sense or Death herself. Tristan spread his hands and gave an easy smile. “Simple. You tell everyone you killed me.” He knew that wasn’t an option even before he said it, but he really enjoyed the way Zhao’s eye twitched in response.
“You know it’s not as easy as that.” Zhao laughed, low and mean. “And you’re assuming that I’m more forgiving than my daughter. We both know I’m not.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” Now it was Tristan’s turn to shrug. “I wouldn’t have believed you even if you told me I was free to go.”
“That simply proves that you’re not as foolish as you’re acting right now.”
He was already tired of this conversation. Verbally dancing around Zhao irritated him under the best of circumstances, and this hardly qualified. “I wouldn’t be the best if I was an idiot.”
“And yet only an idiot would come to me with this farce of an offer.” Zhao turned away and strode to the clear bottle full of amber liquid sitting on the counter in the kitchen. He never went anywhere without it, a little piece of home.
Tristan watched him pour it. He waited until the other man lifted it to his lips to say, “Hope you had that tested.”
Zhao paused. “This came with me from the compound. No one’s hands have touched it but mine.”
“Sure.” Tristan shrugged. “That’s what you think.” He kept his posture easy and relaxed. “But the other three Horsemen haven’t been seen since I was in New York. We assumed they went back to the island, but it’s possible they detoured elsewhere. Most of our resources are focused on this location, after all.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re suggesting they could breach the defenses of the Warren to make an attempt on my life. That’s impossible.”
“Yeah, it is.” He bared his teeth. “As impossible as a Typhon guild assassin making it past the Warren’s defenses to try and shoot Amarante in the face.”
Zhao very carefully set the glass back onto the counter without drinking it. “Get out.”
That was enough confirmation he needed to get moving. Both that Zhao was responsible for the assassin—and that he’d leave the Warren at the first available opportunity. Tristan took a slow step back and walked out of the suite. The door closing behind him felt final, which was fitting in its way. The life he’d spent ten years fortifying and building up was gone. He couldn’t go back.
So be
it.
He’d never been a man who doubted himself. Doubt meant hesitation, and hesitation meant death. Even when he was a kid, that held true. The death might not be as instantaneous or violent—cold nights killed just as easily as a territory dispute—but the threat of it still hung over his head all the same.
That wouldn’t change going forward.
If anything, the stakes had just gotten a whole lot higher.
Chapter 16
Amarante slept poorly.
She wanted to blame it on Zhao and the assassin, but it was more complicated than that. Guilt plagued her, gnawing away at her best intentions. She needed to communicate the location of the new camp to her siblings, but the thought of them walking directly into a trap while she was stuck here, unable to help…
She weighed the lives of the only people she cared about in the world against who knew how many innocents, and she hated herself for it. If she was a better person, she would have made the call as soon as she had the information.
With a curse, she rolled over. It didn’t help. Nothing helped, not when every move she made had Tristan’s scent rising from the sheets. A reminder of how she’d spent last night, of how perfect it had been. Like before, but somehow better. They had so many unforgivable sins between them. Betrayals of the highest order. There shouldn’t be even the smallest possibility of them working.