Her Vengeful Embrace

by Katee Robert

  Nicholai still didn’t look at him. “You have my sincere apologies, Ms. Death. I know there is little to make this right, but suffice to say the guilty party will be punished.”

  He meant that he wouldn’t stop with finding the assassin. The reason the Warren was so feared was because it didn’t stop with the hand that held the knife. They went all the way up to the person who gave the order in the first place.

  She forced herself to stay relaxed. “Good.” Had Zhao given the order? It was more than likely. She and the Horsemen had created more than a few enemies over the years, but few of them had the kind of influence to bring in the Typhon guild, let alone pay the hefty tab that had to come from a contract enacted within the Warren. The timing was too much to be coincidence, which meant Zhao was behind it.

  The amusement Nicholai tended to display in Tristan’s presence was nowhere in evidence as he motioned to the screen and it flickered back to show the early morning mountains. “If you would like to exit the summit, I can arrange it.”

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  At the same time, Tristan piped up. “Do that.”

  Amarante turned to face him. “That’s not a decision for you to make.”

  “You think that assassin was the only one he has up his sleeve? Either the plans changed or he never meant to bring you back into the fold. Doesn’t matter what the reason is, because the end result is the same. You’re not safe here.” He shot a look at Nicholai. “No offense.”

  “Don’t start worrying about sparing my feelings now.” His smile was a shadow of what it had been yesterday. He slid his hands into his pockets. “He’s right, you know. I can all but assure you that the responsible party won’t have a chance to strike again while you’re within these walls, but I also doubt they’ll try the same way twice. More likely, they’ll wait for you to leave and attempt to take you out while you travel.”

  Tristan cursed. “You have a travel guarantee.”

  “I also have a fucking peace guarantee in the Warren and look how that turned out.” He took a slow breath and when he spoke again, his voice was devoid of all emotion. “We will do our best to protect you and see you safely back to the island.”

  He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew her plans for Zhao.

  Amarante didn’t bother to try for a smile. Neither man would believe it, and it would only raise suspicions. Perhaps she could use this to her advantage. “Are you taking precautions to ensure that Zhao is protected as well.”

  Nicholai narrowed his eyes. “You mean are we watching him closely.” He hesitated and seemed to realize that he owed her some kind of response. “Yes, we’ll be ensuring all his people stay where they’re supposed to. This assassin didn’t come in with his party, so you’ll understand that I have to do my due diligence before I can allow anyone to start lobbing accusations.”

  “Of course.” She pushed off the couch. “Thank you for the update. Is it safe to assume that the meeting today will proceed as planned.”

  “Yes.” His mouth twisted as if he tasted something sour. “If you are in agreement, Zhao is already on his way.”

  Good. He’d want to see his handiwork, to gloat in his superiority. Not so superior since the assassin failed. She glanced at Tristan. Unless that was part of the plan… A fake assassination attempt to drive her and Tristan closer so she’d stop suspecting the scorpion in her bed.

  It would be a shitty plan if that were the case. Zhao had to know that Nicholai would take an assassination attempt in the Warren personally, and chase down the responsible party. The risk versus the reward were too unequal. Beyond that, the Typhon guild didn’t have a reputation for making fake attempts. It would still be a mark in the failed category, even if that was the end goal. They wouldn’t take the job in the first place.

  No, if Zhao was responsible—and he had to be—then he’d fully intended to have her murdered last night.

  She held perfectly still, waiting for the sting of that knowledge, but it never came. This man wasn’t her father. Oh, he’d donated the necessary portion of her DNA to bring her into being, but she’d lived through too much by the time she was eighteen for him to truly hurt her. He could torture her, could kill her, but he couldn’t touch her core. He couldn’t break her.

  Is that what this is about?

  But that didn’t make any sense, either. There was something else going on, something she couldn’t divine out. The only way to do so was to keep moving forward. He wouldn’t exhibit surprise when she walked into the room; by this point, he must know that the assassination failed. The ball was in his court. She had to show up in order to find out what he meant to do with it.

  Amarante straightened her jacket and slipped on her heels. “Let’s go.”

  “The fuck you’re going down there now.”

  She turned slowly to face Tristan. Even now, with her mind whirling and her plans spinning out around her, she still reacted to him. She still wanted him. Amarante made her gaze keep sliding until she landed on Nicholai. “I assume Tristan is still banned from the meeting room?”

  “Yes.”

  Good. She wouldn’t be able to focus solely on Zhao if she had to worry about Tristan, too. She moved to the door and held it open, a clear command even if she didn’t give it voice. Tristan stared at her a long moment. “This is a shitty ass idea.”

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  His jaw tightened and his eyes flared hot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Te. Your safety is my fucking concern.”

  “Out.” Nicholai didn’t touch Tristan, but the snap of command in his voice got the other man moving. They filed through the door and Amarante followed them out. She touched the door knob to ensure it locked behind her, but if Nicholai really wanted to snoop through her things, a locked door was hardly going to keep him out. It was the reason she hadn’t brought anything irreplaceable with her on this trip.

  That and the fact I don’t expect to survive it.

  The resolution had settled through her weeks ago. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself now. She’d come too far to turn back. The cost of doing so was too high, and Amarante wouldn’t be the only one to pay it. She had no choice now.

  There was only forward.

  Chapter 14

  “How the fuck did you lose him?”

  Nic walked so fast, even with Tristan’s longer legs, he still had to work to keep up. His friend veered into a door that led to a pair of elevators. They were nothing like the sleek fancy ones the guests use. No, these were purely utilitarian. He waited until the doors closed to respond. “He had someone on the inside.”

  That brought Tristan up short. “Impossible.” If the consequences for breaking the Warren rules were severe, they were nothing compared to employees who missed the mark. To intentionally do it…

  “Nothing is impossible. You should know that by now.”

  Yeah, he really should. Tristan dragged his hands through his hair and tried to focus. Nari had arrived to escort Amarante to the meeting. She’d be safe enough in the meantime. He still didn’t like letting her out of his sight. Zhao wouldn’t stop with a single assassination attempt. Not if that was his end goal.

  She didn’t want his help. She couldn’t have been clearer about that when she turned and walked away without a backward glance. It shouldn’t sting, but it fucking did.

  He pushed it all away. His personal shit had no bearing on this situation, other than to distract him. Since attending the meeting wasn’t an option, he’d do the next best thing and help Nic get to the bottom of this. “Where do we start?”

  The elevator coasted to a stop and the doors slid open. Nic held them there with a hand. “I have to ask.”

  “Then ask.”

  “You’ve worked for Zhao for over a decade. You’re his right-hand man.”

  His chest tightened, but he ignored it. “Yeah.”

  “There isn’t a single damn reason for you to put all that at jeopardy for anyone, let alone a woman who doesn’
t seem to like you very much.”

  All reasonable assumptions, but Tristan wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. “Ask your fucking question.”

  “Did Zhao send you to distract her so he could manipulate negotiations?”

  Tristan met and held his friend’s gaze. “He’d rather chop off my dick than let me anywhere near his daughter, estranged or not.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  No, he guessed it wasn’t. Somehow, speaking this truth felt like crossing the line more than anything else he’d done to date. When he was with Amarante, it was easy enough to focus entirely on her and forget the rest of the bullshit. Verbalizing it to his friend was different. “I came here for her. Not for Zhao. Not for whatever he’s got planned. I’m only here for Amarante.”

  “Bold words.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a bold kind of guy.”

  Nic frowned. “You’re serious.” He frowned harder. “You’re going to throw away all that time climbing the ranks for her.”

  It was more complicated than that, and yet it wasn’t at the same time. Tristan hadn’t exactly shown up at the Warren with the intention of burning his life down around him, but the moment he realized Amarante still had feelings for him? “Guys like me don’t get second chances. Not usually. I have one with her.” When Nic still looked unconvinced, he threw him a bone. “A long time ago, I signed on with Zhao and lost her.” He hadn’t gotten it at the time, not really, but he got it now. “I’m not making the same mistake again.”

  “No, you’re just going to make different ones.” Nic pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does Zhao know you’re no longer loyal?”

  “He suspects.” He wouldn’t have banished Tristan from the meeting rooms otherwise.

  “You all are a pain in my ass. Years, I’ve run this place without issues. Fucking years, Tristan. Now it’s all assassins and backstabbing and bullshit.”

  Tristan snorted and clapped his friend on the back. “Keeping you on your toes.”

  “I could do without the complications.”

  Complications like someone trying to kill Amarante. The thought sobered Tristan. “Have I passed your interrogation?”

  “Please.” Nic shook his head and walked out of the elevator. “We both know you lie as easily as you speak.”

  That stung, even if he was right. Especially because he was right. Tristan wasn’t a guy who spent a lot of time preoccupied with honor. The world respected power and power alone. Being honorable was a good way to get killed in his line of work. It gave a person a blind spot that could be exploited. He had exploited enemy’s blind spots in the past. “I’m not a white hat. I never will be. But if there’s one person capable of holding my leash, it’s Death.”

  “That, I believe.” Nic led the way down yet another series of halls. This place truly lived up to its name. Back here, without all the glitz that was present in the guest areas, it was easier to remember that they had an entire mountain’s worth of rock over their heads. Tristan’s skin prickled and he studied the ceiling. It’d held this long. It would hold another lifetime.

  They finally ended up in an office that looked like a million other offices out there. Gray walls, gray floor, nondescript deck, computer. Nic pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

  “When you said you wanted my help, I didn’t think you were literally going to put me to work.”

  “Sit.”

  Tristan dropped into the chair. Nic leaned around him and tapped a button on the keyboard. The screen cleared and a white woman’s face appeared. She was plus-sized and pretty and had deep auburn hair. Tristan would know her anywhere. “That’s Gluttony.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He rotated the chair to face Nic. “Why am I looking at a picture of one of the Virtuous Sins? We both know who the assassin is.”

  “We do…and we don’t.”

  He frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “I know the assassin belongs to Typhon. He has their style and this whole thing is something they’d pull.” Nic hesitated. “But I don’t have actual evidence.”

  Tristan would enjoy this moment of Nic being less than perfect if there wasn’t so much hanging in the balance. “You lied.” It didn’t even surprise him now that he thought about it. The Warren worked because Nic was considered all powerful. Admitting that he had no idea who had come into his territory and attempted to murder one of his guests… It wasn’t exactly going to have people giving him a vote of confidence. In their world, reputation was everything.

  “I overstated my knowledge.” Nic shrugged a shoulder. “Would you like to hear my theory? Or would you rather bitch at me about my underhanded ways?”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Pot, meet kettle.”

  Tristan cursed. “Yes, fine. What’s your theory?”

  “I think it’s the Chimera.”

  He blinked. That was bad. Really bad. “No one knows what the Chimera looks like. We don’t even know gender.” He was nearly one hundred percent sure that he’d fought a guy in the hallway, but Tristan knew as well as anyone that that sort of line could be smudged. People saw what they expected to see, and the Chimera was notorious for their disguise skills.

  Nic crossed his arms over his chest. “I have a database of every known operating assassin on this computer. It’s likely the most extensive in existence right now.”

  “Cute.”

  He snorted. “My point is that I while there are some like Gluttony who we know a lot about, there are others that I only have a picture or a small list of suspected jobs.”

  Tristan made a motion of him to get to the point. “And?”

  “I think it’s possible that multiple files are the same person—the Chimera.”

  He turned that over in his head. “That makes sense, but it also doesn’t explain what I’m doing here. You have a small army of tech nerds who’d love nothing more than to geek out over this information and run algorithms or whatever the fuck they do to find the answer.” Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Are you just trying to distract me so I don’t barge in there and fuck up your precious summit?”

  “Several birds, one stone.” Nic didn’t even have the grace to look sorry about it. “I’m about to devote most of my attention to dealing with the fucking rat in my walls, and I need you to stay out of the way until it’s over.” He held up a hand, anticipating Tristan’s question. “I know who did it. I simply need a few hours to handle it.”

  And Nic didn’t trust his own people to handle this. Knowing the Chimera’s working faces would be valuable for a number of reasons. As best Tristan could tell, they were more a ghost than assassins typically were. The face in the hallway had been so nondescript, even though he concentrated, it threatened to slip from his mind. If he knew the other aliases, he’d have a better chance of seeing them coming. That, more than anything else, decided him. “I’ll do it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back once I’m finished. Resist the urge to wander. I can’t be accountable for your safety if you do.”

  Even after fifteen years of suffering through meetings just like this, Amarante still wasn’t used to sitting across a table from someone who wanted her dead. Usually they showed it, something lingering in their eyes or the angle of their heads. Not Zhao. He was just as amused and unflappable as he’d been for the last two days.

  Exhaustion rolled over here in a wave. She wanted to go home. The cry of a child in the dark, a part of herself she’d worked hard to eradicate. She couldn’t afford to let fear drive her. Not at any point in her life. Fear meant death in too many of the things she’d survived. Fear meant death in this one, too.

  She leaned back and cut off whatever Zhao was saying, “I find it strange.”

  His mouth tightened, but he quickly relaxed into a smile. “What’s strange?”

  “Your timing. I might believe the rest, but the timing is too suspicious to ignore.” She examined her nails, painted a blood red that reminded her of her sister.
The thought gave her strength, steadied her. “Are you afraid, Zhao?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? For weeks we’ve been closing in. First your Bookkeeper. She was a true delight, by the way. Irrationally confident that you would sweep in to save her, right up until the end.” She didn’t like thinking about what she’d done to get answers, but Amarante would do it again in a heartbeat. She recited the steps in a cold voice, giving him nothing. “Then there were the other three. Low level partners, I suspect. They all had a vested interest in Bueller, but their loyalty didn’t last past the first cut.”

  There it was again, the slight tightening of his jaw. “I suppose you have a reason for being so crass.”

  Crass. His audacity left her breathless. “Yes, by all means, we only act out the worst sins humanity can come up with. We certainly don’t speak them aloud.” She smiled slowly. “That was a good attempt to turn the conversation. Subtle.”

  Zhao sat back. “You want to do away with niceties. So be it.” He spread his hands. “I have an empire filled with dangerous and powerful people who would like nothing more than to annihilate that adorable island of yours. Simply blow it right off the map. The only reason they haven’t done so is because of me. You are my daughter, and that boy is my son. Come home and let’s be done with this.”

  She considered him as she forced herself to pick apart his words. The threat against the island felt too big, too heavy for her to do more than touch on. If she started worrying about someone bombing it into oblivion, she’d lose what little control she had left. He was counting on that emotional response.

  Amarante allowed her smile to widen. “I’m going to kill you.”

  He jerked the tiniest bit. “Back to being crass, I see.”

  “Do you know how I got my name, Zhao? You say you sent us to Bueller as a proving ground, but how closely did you watch what happened to us there?” There were so many ways to torture a person. Some left scars on the body. Some caused scars that were more difficult to divine out. When Zhao didn’t immediately respond, she kept going. Her tone was perfectly even as if she were discussing the weather. “I was eight first time they put a blade in my hand. At ten, they started calling me Little Death.” She’d acted the part of their pet torturer for seven years. Amarante suffered in other ways during that time, but it was the torture that carved out her insides and left her as someone who didn’t feel human the majority of the time. “I got very, very good at my craft over the years.”