by Dylan Steel
He nodded curtly, then resumed the brisk walk toward the stable. “You did the right thing telling me. But it would be best if you didn’t mention it to anyone else.”
Sage swallowed, bobbing her head. Her calves burned as she struggled to match his stride.
She’d betrayed the Lawless to save herself. Again.
13. ORDEZKO
Sweat rolled sideways down Sage’s forehead. Her left foot was hanging in the air when she noticed Weston leaning casually against the door frame, watching her. She straightened, dropping her leg.
“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account.”
“I can practice later.”
Padding over to the couch, she grabbed a towel and pressed it to her face. She looked back at him hesitantly. Things had been tense between them for the past two weeks—ever since Grayson’s party—but they hadn’t talked about it. In fact, despite all the time the tether forced them to spend together, they’d barely talked at all. Weston had seemed particularly broody, and Sage wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Most of the staff had been giving him a wide berth, making the enormous manor even lonelier than usual.
“Did you need something? Or are we going somewhere?” She ran the towel across her shoulders, still breathing hard.
He pushed off the doorway, strolling into the room and taking a seat near her. “It’s good you’re still practicing. But you’ll need a sparring partner if you really want to keep up your skills.”
She shrugged. “It’d help, but I don’t exactly have any volunteers.”
“If I’m not mistaken, that’s only because you haven’t asked for any.”
Mischief glinted in his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and stood. Muscles rippled along his shoulders as he peeled off his shirt, assuming a ready stance in front of her.
Sage arched an eyebrow, pursing her lips to avoid gawking at his hard physique. “You?”
“Why not?”
“You’re a benefactor.”
“What’s your point? Think I’m too soft?”
“No, I just—” Sage was glad her cheeks were already red from exertion, or he’d have no trouble sensing that wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking. She glanced around, taking note of the furniture spread on either side of where she’d been working on her forms. She tried another approach. “My room isn’t exactly set up for—”
“Fights don’t happen under the perfect circumstances, Sage. This will be fine.”
She started to argue, but before she could open her mouth, he’d taken a wide swing at her. She jumped back, dodging the blow. It had been more of an invitation than an outright attack, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have hurt if he’d connected. Weston’s lips ticked up in an eager grin as he circled her.
Her eyes narrowed. He really wanted to fight? Fine.
Sage lunged forward, bobbing on the balls of her feet as she waited for him to make another move. She’d never seen him fight before, so to her, his movements were as unpredictable as his moods.
His weight shifted back abruptly—her only hint to duck before Weston’s heel slammed forward, catching the air where she’d just been standing.
Exploding from a crouch, she shot out with an uppercut, a move which mostly just glanced off his taut abs. He’d already stepped back and hooked an arm around her elbow before she’d finished extending the punch. Her arm locked up, and the room became a whirl of color as she was launched forward.
Surprise flitted over her features for a moment, but anger quickly rushed in its place. She bolted up, forcing down her emotions—they’d only prove to be a distraction.
Weston grinned, beckoning her closer. He was toying with her.
His mistake.
Bursting forward, Sage feinted to the left, then dropped her head, using her momentum to pull her leg into a high strike. Her heel connected with his shoulder, sending a satisfying crack into the air.
She tried to follow up with another strike, but he’d somehow already managed to circle behind her. His arms whistled through the air as she jerked forward and spun to face him, narrowly escaping his grasp. Adrenaline raced through her veins as she frantically searched for another opening.
The benefactor was skilled. Maybe he was even better than she was. She’d need to remember that.
“You’re way out of bounds,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Amusement danced across his features. He shook his head slightly, careful to stay just out of her legs’ reach. “No rules.”
Well, ok then.
She didn’t waste another second. Covering the distance between them in two steps, she made sure she was ready when his fist flew out. Grabbing his wrist, she circled under his arm, slamming it against his back. She finally had him.
Until she didn’t.
Before she could secure his other arm, he’d already broken free. Staying close, he threw another punch as he turned. She blocked, but he immediately followed it with an elbow strike, then a set of kicks, putting her on the defensive, driving her lower as she caught the attacks.
She dove for the ground to avoid another blow and rolled out of the way. Her back thudded between the unforgiving floor and the corner of her bed. Sharp agony sliced through her torso. She let out a cry and started to curl in on herself, trying to escape the pain, but Weston wedged himself over her, pinning her in place. One of his hands clamped around both her wrists as he laid his forearm across her throat, securing her crossed legs with a knee on her thigh.
She twisted and bucked under him, but between the unnatural angle and his larger size—not to mention the pain—she couldn’t gain any leverage.
“Can’t… breathe…” she rasped.
“And yet you’re still talking.” A hint of humor bled into his voice. “That alone would suggest otherwise.”
Stars began spotting her vision as she struggled. His grip only tightened. Biting back the edge of her pride, she allowed herself to fall limp.
The pressure on her throat eased. “Giving up already?”
She glared at him past the fading stars. Her side was still throbbing painfully, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of an official surrender. “I told you this wasn’t a good place to spar.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. You just don’t like that you lost.”
“Only because you broke the rules,” she ground out.
“Rules are for the Institution. Not for real fights. Not for benefactors.”
Her breath caught in her chest. Did he even realize what he’d just said?
He looked her over appreciatively, not noticing her tense at his words. “I can see why you won the tournament. You’re not bad.”
She grunted as she tried jerking against his vice grip again, hoping he’d let his guard down enough. No luck. He hadn’t relaxed in the slightest. “Not good enough either, apparently.”
“Anyone can get lucky.” His biceps tensed. “It just takes once.”
“That wasn’t luck.”
“No,” he admitted readily. “It was practice.”
“Then I guess I need more of it.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Tell me, Mr. Bennick,” she said, jerking unsuccessfully against his hold one more time. Her eyes narrowed. “How do you get so much practice alone at your estate?”
He frowned. “There’s nothing they can do at the Institution that we can’t do here—and do better. I’ve been training for years,” he said icily. He paused, then added, “The Institution’s rules have hindered your skills. You should be more prepared for a real fight.”
“Is this part of you needing to protect me?” she spat. Panic flooded in her chest. She hadn’t meant that to sound so bitter. She still needed him to release her tether, and if he knew how she really felt about him, he’d never do it.
The rugged scruff he wore didn’t hide the muscle that jumped along his jaw. “I promised I would. But if I can’t be there, I need to know you can handle yourself.”
“I can.
”
It probably would’ve been more convincing if she weren’t currently trapped under his bulk.
Weston arched his brow but didn’t say anything for a moment. His blue eyes locked on hers, sending chills spilling down her spine. His brows dipped, and for a moment, he looked like he was the one in pain.
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, you could just let me up then,” she said, only half-joking, squirming again under his hold. The skin on her neck prickled with awareness at the intensity of his gaze.
He didn’t laugh. And he didn’t let her go. “I never should have left you alone the other night. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if Edward had…”
Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She clenched her teeth, flicking her eyes to the side so she didn’t have to hold his gaze.
“I thought worrying was a waste of time.”
“I stand by that.” She looked at him uncertainly. His expression softened as he returned her glance, revealing too much of himself. He cared. “And yet, I find myself constantly fearing for you.”
Sage’s heart beat faster in her chest, betraying her own emotions. She bit the inside of her lip, stuffing them down. There was no sense getting attached to the benefactor. He’d shown his true colors the other night after he’d found her with Grayson. Possessiveness. Jealousy. Whatever he wanted to call it, he considered her his. He’d said as much too.
And she wouldn’t be owned by anyone.
Given the right circumstances, he’d destroy her—no matter how honorable he claimed his intentions were. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. When the opportunity to escape presented itself, she’d need to take it without hesitation. There wouldn’t be another chance, not after deliberately gaining his trust only to break it.
Weston pushed off the floor, leaving an unexpected ache in her chest as he stood up and backed away, putting some distance between them.
“I have to go back into the city.” He pulled his shirt back on before he faced her again. “More meetings.”
“O-ok.” She sat up. “When are we leaving?”
“We’re not.”
She licked her lips nervously. Was he already tired of her? “But—”
“You don’t have to worry about your tether. It won’t be an issue.”
“Wait… what?” She blinked, stuffing down the hope that instinctively surged in her chest. This was too good to be true. “I’m—I’m not tethered?”
“No, you still are. It’s just been adjusted.” Her heart sank. “I’ve temporarily removed the proximity requirements while you’re at the estate. They’ll be reset when I return.”
“Oh.”
“You still won’t be able to leave the grounds—can’t even go ten feet into the woods or mountains—but you’ll be able to stretch your legs a bit while I’m gone.”
“And how long will that be?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“Difficult to say.”
Sage’s brow furrowed as she rubbed her side, massaging the spot that had just been jammed against her bed. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. “Does this have anything to do with your conversation with Mr. Gaztok?”
Every muscle in his body went stiff, rigid. His eyes snapped to hers, and she froze, barely daring to breathe under his scrutiny. Maybe bringing that up again was a bad idea.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before he finally relaxed and looked away. Her shoulders sagged in relief.
“It’s about the ordezko,” he said. “Until the party, I didn’t know it had already taken place.”
There was that word again.
“What’s ordezko?” She watched him cautiously as he began pacing in front of her.
“A transfer of power. It means Mr. Gaztok is now a member of the Quorum,” Weston said stiffly.
The blood drained from Sage’s face. This was happening too fast. Mr. Gaztok was ruthless—exactly the type of person who shouldn’t be given power, and exactly the type of person who would do anything to claim it for himself.
“It’s not official yet,” he continued. “Not public, at least—but all of Nicholas Pruitt’s rights and responsibilities have been transferred to him. If Pruitt recovers, his power will revert. But we both know that’s not going to happen. I suspect the Quorum’s official induction ceremony will only occur after he dies, but at this point, it’s just a formality.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “And that may all happen much sooner than I initially thought.”
“But you expected all that.” She leaned against the edge of the bed, giving her thighs a much-needed rest after the workout. “What’s the big deal?”
Frustration and anger combined in a flash across his face. “The big deal is that I didn’t know about the ordezko.” His eyes flicked to hers, blazing with fury.
She spread her hands and shrugged apologetically.
“I’m not just a benefactor, Sage. I’m a Bennick. And I wasn’t told. That was deliberate. He was baiting me.” Weston clenched and unclenched his fists. “Trying to see what I’d heard. No doubt teasing out who he can trust to keep secrets from me—possibly other benefactors as well. I have no doubt he would’ve expected me to be in the city the day after the party had he succeeded in blindsiding me with that information.”
Sage frowned, not understanding. “But you just said he did blindside you—”
“A fact which I wasn’t in a hurry to confirm. If he’s going to lengths to keep secrets from me now, that doesn’t bode well for me or any member of my estate. It says the future of his service as a member of the Quorum is unpredictable at best. Until now, the Quorum has been remarkably predictable. They’ve been relatively easy to handle.” His eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance thoughtfully. “This was a test, and not just for me. And I need to find out why.”
She nodded slowly. “You don’t want him to know you were surprised. You want him to think he trusted the wrong person somewhere along the line.” Her brows crowded together. “But if you go now, won’t he know anyways?”
“I don’t believe so,” Weston said, fingering the bronze sculpture sitting on the table beside him. He traced a finger over its lines slowly as he met her eyes, capturing her in his gaze again. “Patience coupled with the right information and ability to act—it’s more valuable than any land or currency, Sage. Knowledge is an incredibly powerful weapon. It needs to be both acquired and wielded with the utmost care.”
“So these meetings…” She paused, swallowing. “Are you acquiring it? Or preventing someone else from acquiring it? Like Mr. Gaztok?”
The corner of Weston’s mouth lifted in a smile that whispered secrets. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try to do a better job of staying out of trouble this time.”
14. LOCKED
Other than the birds chirping outside her window, the room was silent. Sage couldn’t help but smile as she got ready for the day. Weston had left her with more files to study while he was in the city, but that wouldn’t take all her time. She was finally alone, and she had big plans.
Before he left, Weston had assured her that she could explore most of the grounds freely, and she had every intention of doing just that. At some point when he’d been talking about leaving her alone at the estate, it had occurred to her that a benefactor might have his own set of tech stashed away somewhere. She tried not to get her hopes too high, but she couldn’t help wondering if she might find something she could rig to reprogram her bracelet or—even better—an egg to remove it altogether. Granted, there was a good chance she’d have to tear apart most of the estate to find it, but she figured she probably had a few days to look.
Patience coupled with the right information and ability to act.
That’s what Weston had said. He’d been talking about Eprah’s politics and players, but it didn’t take a genius to apply the same principles to her situation.
She’d been more than patient. And once she got the tether released, she’d act. She’d disap
pear from the estate at the first opportunity. Maybe she’d still have to wear her bracelet, but around a bunch of Rogues, maybe that wouldn’t matter.
Sinking her fingers deep between the back of the couch and its cushion, Sage pulled out her mother’s onyx necklace from its hiding spot. She clasped it around her neck, tucking it under her shirt. With Weston gone at the present, she didn’t have to worry about keeping it hidden.
Tiptoeing into the vestibule, she knocked softly on Weston’s door. She’d heard him leave the night before, but she wanted to make doubly sure no one else was inside. Her stomach flipped and tumbled in a bunch of nerves as she waited, but nothing stirred on the other side of the wall. Good.
After waiting a few moments longer, she turned the knob, pushing open the door to the benefactor’s room. Her mouth fell open as she stepped over the threshold. Weston’s room had to be at least three times the size of hers—and hers was already enormous.
She slipped inside, shutting the door behind her before crossing the suite. The main bedroom was filled with large, obvious furniture and only a few smaller decorations. It’d be simple enough to check—it’d just take a long time to be thorough since there was so much of it. She’d save it for last. Several doors lined either side of the bedroom, and that was where she’d begin.
Crossing to the far side of the room, Sage held her breath as she turned the first handle. A closet. Expected, but still anticlimactic despite its generous size. She ran her fingertips across a row of suits, breathing in Weston’s subtle sweet, woodsy scent as she walked down the aisle. Her stomach fluttered automatically in response, and she tightened her jaw.
Focus.
Not really expecting to uncover anything here, she parted the clothes in a few places and ran her hands over the walls behind them, performing a cursory search for possible hiding places. Nothing. No real surprise.
A grin lit up her face as soon as she pushed open the door to the next room. It was a miniature version of the Archives’ main room. Books of varying sizes and colors lined shelf after shelf, and nothing else was in the room except a couple huge, plush chairs in the center with a small table beside them.