“Good.” Daryl’s voice was low, firm, and direct. He looked confident, sure of himself. “I want you to know that if you lie to me, I’ll do the same thing. Do you understand?”
“I fucking understand,” Marvin said through a hiss.
The corner of Daryl’s lips curled up, but it vanished just as quickly as it came.
“What do you know of Cillian’s murder,” Daryl said, and before Marvin could respond, he continued, “And remember, I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Marvin was silent for a long moment. He looked over at Rose, and Jane was surprised to see his eyes soften. It was almost as though he were contemplating telling Daryl what Daryl wanted to know. His eyes looked tormented, and that was when Jane knew Marvin wasn’t contemplating anything. He was reminding himself that Rose was worth it. He hated having a weakness, but he was in love with her. And Jane could understand that.
“I killed Cillian,” he finally said. “After getting my money from Michael, I realized the information I had was still worth something. I contacted the general and he paid me three times what Michael did, essentially for the same information. He told me if I killed Cillian, I would get paid extra because it would throw suspicion on Michael, and if Arbuckle could get rid of Michael, he’d be able to acquire peculiars without people in the way. Michael was also a loose end that needed tying up.”
“Did you really need to leave him in such a state?” Daryl asked.
“The guy told me to make it brutal,” Marvin said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “I followed orders.”
Daryl nodded. “Is there anything else?” he asked. “Anything that might be pertinent?”
“Yeah, one more thing,” Marvin said, nodding his head. “He wants her. All of this is for her.” He indicated Jane, and she swallowed. “Are we through?”
Daryl nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But there’s one more thing I need to do.”
Before Marvin could respond, Daryl narrowed his eyes. Jane knew this was what Daryl did when he was erasing someone’s memory. What he was erasing, Jane didn’t know. Whatever it was, it must have been important for Daryl to have Marvin forget. In a manner of moments, Daryl released both Marvin and Rose.
“Baby brother!” Marvin explained, his eyes lighting up. “What brings you out here? Who’s your girlie friend?”
Jane looked over at Daryl. Daryl looked at Jane. It was as though the past few weeks hadn’t even existed—at least not for Marvin.
31
“I’m sorry.”
The words came out of Jason’s mouth, regretful and sincere. Sophie furrowed her brow, not sure she understood. The sun was starting to make its presence known in the sky, and though its rays were shining down, the coldness still surrounded the island so the warmth was still enveloped in the cold. It was light jacket weather, and while Sophie had worked up a sweat jogging, she still kept her hoodie on.
“What are you sorry for?” she asked him, raising her forearm up to her forehead so she could block out the brightness of the sun. She wanted to make sure she saw Jason clearly. Just because she didn’t know him well enough to read him didn’t mean she didn’t want to at least try.
“It’s just,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. They stopped at a park across the street from the Grand Hotel—it was deserted; no one was around. If Sophie thought about it, the place was actually eerie, even with the sun out. “They have my family, Soph. Or, at least they said they did. And I can’t risk my family. I know maybe you can’t understand it because you and your family … Well, you don’t have a family. But I do. And I’m really close to my family, especially my sister. I wanted you to meet her. You know, back when we were dating. She would have loved you. And I think you would have liked her. She was excited at the prospect of me actually bringing a girl home. She’s panpi, but she’s honestly the most accepting person you will ever meet. I promise.”
Jason was pacing in circles around Sophie. His shoulders were hunched forward and his eyes were on his toes. It was almost as though he couldn’t look at her. But why? Sophie reached out and placed both her hands on Jason’s shoulders. She needed to stop him, clear his head, and tell her what was going on.
“Jason,” she said, hoping the sound of his name would cause him to snap out of it. “You’re not making any sense. Are you all right?”
Her sapphire eyes pooled into his—it was the first time he looked at her all morning. She wasn’t sure if that was what did it, but he practically collapsed in her arms.
“Soph, I couldn’t stop them,” he said, and she could see the pain on his face like a star in the black night. “I had no choice. You have to believe me. I didn’t want to do this. Me and you have our issues. We’re not friends. I wasn’t happy with how you ended it with me, and I can admit I was maybe a little bit of a jackass about it. But I promise you, I never wanted this. Do you believe me? You have to believe me.”
Sophie wanted to smack him. Her grip on him tightened, and she had to be sure she didn’t break any of his bones. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
Before Jason could respond, Sophie felt at least three men grab onto both of her arms. Without thinking, she started to fling them off, one after another. She twisted her torso, grabbed onto their wrist, flipping them over her shoulder. But they kept coming. She started getting tired.
“Jason!” she screamed. “Help me!”
What if they grabbed Jason? What the hell was going on?
“Jason isn’t going to help you,” a familiar voice said over the thrown bodies, the grunting, and the ragged breaths. “Who do you think brought you here? To me?”
Sophie continued to fight. She didn’t want to seriously harm anyone, but if it came to down to her life and freedom and their physical health, she would choose herself every time. As such, she began snapping wrists, breaking legs, anything she could do to free herself.
But they continued to come.
The familiar voice laughed. “I’m afraid, my dear, I have more men than you have stamina,” he said. “Why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and stop wasting time, hmm? You can come to my room for a cool bottle of water and we can discuss why I’m here.” He paused, and his eyes pointedly fixated on one of his soldier’s weapons. “Or I can shoot you somewhere so you won’t die, but will be in a good amount of pain. Your choice.”
Arbuckle. It was Arbuckle.
Sophie straightened and stopped fighting against the men. She paused, inhaling deeply, trying to get her thoughts to catch up with her breathing. Arbuckle was giving her a choice. She could struggle and fight and potentially be shot. She wouldn’t die, but it would hurt. A lot. And any chance of escape later on would have to be amended in order to fit with whatever injury she would sustain.
Arbuckle perked his bushy brow. As Sophie bought time to think about his offer, her eyes narrowed in on the general. He looked exactly as he had at the gala: tall, broad shouldered, imposing. His grey hair was buzzed short, just like the military required. His forest green uniform was pressed perfectly, his medals and accolades shining through the sun that peeked through the park’s trees.
She had no idea how this attack on her person could happen somewhere so public, yet there was no one else around. Then again, the men were wearing the uniforms. People tended to trust the uniform more than they trusted a teenage girl wearing street clothes. She needed to be smart about this.
“Okay,” she said after taking a long, slow breath. “I’ll go with you.”
Arbuckle smiled. It wasn’t a smirk—he wasn’t trying to accomplish something here by getting Sophie to agree—but he did seem satisfied by her answer. “You look like an intelligent young woman,” he told her. He looked over Sophie’s shoulders, just behind her, and nodded his head once. Without warning, five men each grabbed onto her, clinging for dear life. “I hope you don’t mind; I take necessary precautions. I wouldn’t want you leaving before I finish my story.”
Sophie’s eyes flashed sapphire. They were dark, a warning, but she kept
her mouth shut. If she wanted information, if she wanted time to figure out a means of escape, she needed to keep her mouth shut. As such, she let him lead her into the hotel. It was still under renovation, and construction could be heard as they walked up through the sliding glass entrance doors. Arbuckle shot the lobby attendants a charming smile and led the group over to the elevators. It was odd to Sophie that no one seemed to question why a group of men were holding onto a teenage girl. Maybe they knew Arbuckle well enough not to open their mouths and question him.
The elevator ride was smooth and short. Sophie tried to ignore the way the men were digging their fingers into her skin, clinging onto her clothes like she was going to leave. For a moment, she entertained the thought. She knew she would be able to break free, no problem. She could turn around and run down the stairs. They might clip her with a bullet; they might not. She would be free.
But they would just keep coming until they got what it was they wanted. They wouldn’t stop. But maybe Sophie could figure out what it was he wanted. Maybe she could figure out a way to stop them. If not her, then Ethan or Will or Daryl. Certainly, someone would realize she wasn’t there. Will would check on her at some point, wouldn’t he?
Of course he would. He was stubborn, but he still cared about her.
But what if he was that stubborn? Sophie stayed with foster parents one time who, whenever they had a disagreement, would avoid each other at all costs, waiting for the other to break down and talk first. The longest they went was nine days, and to say things were tense in the house was an understatement. She hated the atmosphere. She hated watching them avoid each other, even during family functions, like Thanksgiving dinner. She hated the fake smiles and the rolled eyes. She hated the bullshit of it all when they should just put their pride aside and move forward.
If Will fell into that category, where he was that stubborn to not even come to her, then she didn’t want to be with him anyway.
You are forgetting that you’re stubborn, too, Soph, a voice pointed out. He might think the same thing about you. Maybe he’s waiting for you to go to him.
Sophie’s heart stopped. Suddenly, their entire fight was stupid. Pointless. It didn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. What mattered was that they were together, that they loved each other, trusted each other, and respected each other. She needed to find a way to get to him. She needed to find a way to apologize and to hold him and just to see his face again somehow.
So she would wait. She would stay silent and hear Arbuckle out. Because she had to get back to Will and make things right between them. She had to apologize and tell him that while her intentions visiting Michael had been pure, she had made a dumb decision and hadn’t thought about the consequences. That he was dumb for even questioning her utter and true devotion to him. She had to prove that she loved him and wanted to be with only him. She wanted to hold him and never let him go. If that meant listening to this general drivel on about his story and his plan like every other arrogant villain in an action movie, she would.
When they reached the suite, Sophie’s eyes immediately took in her surroundings. The carpet was crimson with a gold design on it. The suite had a bedroom and a living room with a simple brown couch that probably housed a sofa bed propped against a mirrored wall. There was a simple sink with coffee cups and an ice basket next to it over a microwave and a mini fridge. Across from the sink was a door that Sophie guessed led to the bathroom. Arbuckle led her through the living room to the bedroom.
“If I let you go so you can get comfortable on the bed, will you try and escape?” Arbuckle asked her.
Sophie shook her head. “If your men let me go, I won’t,” she agreed.
Without making it obvious, she took in the double-paned glass window. She could probably jump it, but depending on how she executed it, she might break a bone. Sophie wasn’t sure if she was willing to risk that.
“Good,” Arbuckle said, and nodded to his men.
Immediately, they released her and went to the living room, guarding the door to the suite and to the bedroom. Now, it was just her and Arbuckle. Sophie knew she’d be able to handle Arbuckle, no problem.
“I wouldn’t want to have to kill Will,” he continued, his eyes sharp on her face.
That caused Sophie’s eyes to snap up. “Excuse me?” she said, not sure if she heard him correctly.
“Listen, Ms. Harper,” Arbuckle said, taking a seat in the only desk chair in the bedroom. “I want to trust your word, but your word has proven to be … untrustworthy. Empty. If I get you to do what I want, I won’t have to harm your lover, boyfriend, or whatever you want to call the inappropriate relationship you’re engaging in with your instructor.”
Sophie ignored his judgment and focused on what was important. “What, exactly, do you want me to do?” she asked.
Arbuckle grinned. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “Nothing. I don’t want you to do anything. All I need from you is your presence.”
Sophie had no idea what he was talking about. “That doesn’t make sense,” she told him.
“It doesn’t need to,” he replied. “All that matters is you’re here. Should you even attempt to leave, your beloved shifter will die. And that’s all you need to know.”
32
“Are you okay?”
Jane hated this question. When her grandmother died back when she was fourteen, it was all anyone asked her. Her parents, her friends, her professors, even Ethan. The only one who hadn’t asked the question was her grandfather. Because he knew. That was all anyone asked him as well. And the answer was no. Clearly, it was no. Someone close to them had just died. How could she and her grandfather possibly be okay?
Now, however, Jane realized that the question all those years before was more about the asker than the respondent. They weren’t overtly concerned with how she had answered; they needed to ask.
Jane knew Daryl wasn’t okay. His brother was the biggest asshole on the planet and he had to erase said asshole’s memory. That did not leave someone okay. But Jane had to ask it. She needed to fill the silence, even if it meant she asked a stupid question.
“Actually,” Daryl said, closing the door to their room and then leaning against it with his shoulders, “I’m exhausted. But I am much better than I thought I would be.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said. “For everything. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”
Daryl’s black eyes opened and locked onto Jane, and for some reason, this subtle action caused Jane’s heart to skip into her throat. It was hungry, she realized. He was hungry. For her. She swallowed, but it was too little too late. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart drummed against her earlobes. She had no idea how she still managed to keep standing.
“Kiss me.”
His command was simple and direct. It was perfectly Daryl Depogare, and Jane fell in love with it instantly. Her mind was already numb with possibilities, but somehow, her body managed to obey. Her feet led her across the small room and over to Daryl without any hesitation. When she was mere inches from his frame, she rolled onto the balls of her feet, tilted her head up, and kissed him on the lips.
She hadn’t meant to turn it into a kiss of passion. She wanted to start slow and let it build from there, like melting an ice cube. But the minute Daryl’s fingers started playing with her hair and Jane had to grab Daryl’s next with her hands, her mouth opened and his tongue entered. Suddenly, the kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.
When she whimpered—and to be completely honest, she hadn’t meant to whimper; it just came out—Daryl ripped apart from her, gasping for air.
“Why do you torture me?” he asked, his voice raspy.
Jane shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. “Wh-what?” she stuttered. “What are you talking about?”
“You torture me, Jane Cabot,” he told her, his eyes flashing into hers. “Ever since you walked into my classroom at the beginning of this year in a skirt much too short to be appropriate, you
’ve tortured me. I want nothing more than to take you in my arms and inflict the same level of torture on your body the same way you’ve done to me.”
Jane couldn’t say anything. Not yet.
Daryl took a step closer. Jane did not move.
“You drive me absolutely, bat-shit crazy,” he told her. “You bring out the best and the worst in me. You make me question my feelings and my beliefs and my values. You have ruined every plan I’ve had for my future with your mere proximity to me. The last thing I ever wanted was to fall in love with you, and now, you are all I know. Do you know how difficult it is to resist you? When you indicate that you desire me and wear these outfits that leave little to my imagination, do you realize what you do to me?”
Jane still could not speak. Instead, she shook her head. Once to the left. Once to the right.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I’ve tried to hold back. But I find I can no longer do that.” He took another step toward her. If he reached out to touch her, he would. “I’m going mad with desire. Put a stop to it. Right now.”
That was the moment Jane lost it. She practically skipped up to him and crushed his lips with hers. Her hands reached his neck at the same moment as his arms locked around her waist, pulling her to him so their bodies were molded together, like they were cut from the same cloth in the literal sense. She could feel him press against her, and it made her heart race with a flurry of emotions: excitement, nervousness, scared, joy, power, lust. All at the same time. It was unlike anything she ever experienced before.
It wasn’t long before clothes were shed and they managed, through the darkness and their lust-ridden passion, to make their way to the bed. The minute the back of Jane’s knees hit the edge, she sat down and Daryl pushed her back so he was on top of her.
He seemed to love the column of her throat. It was wear his lips were fixated the majority of the time, though it did wander when the moment called for it. Her hands touched everything on him, every piece of him she wanted to touch: his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen, his hips, his back, and most definitely his butt.
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