The phone call ends with a sharp click, the silence in the room heavy and suffocating. Tobias sets the phone down on the table with a deliberate motion, his lips curling into a faint,
cruel smile.
“There you have it, little Paige,” he says, his tone light but laced with malice. “Your life means nothing. Not even to your own father.”
The words hit me like a slap, stealing the air from my lungs. I don’t want to believe it–can’t believe it–but the cold truth is there, echoing in my mind. My father, the man who’s controlled every part of my life, who molded me into the perfect negotiator, just discarded me like garbage.
Tobias leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “He’s agreed to meet. A neutral restaurant, a week from now. A chance for both sides to exchange information, make a deal about the north side, and of course…” His smile sharpens. “To discuss your execution.”
My throat tightens, and I stare at him, disbelief mingling with the raw sting of betrayal.
“According to him,” Tobias continues, his tone almost conversational, “he can just train someone else. Someone better. You’re replaceable, Paige.” He tilts his head, mock sympathy in his eyes. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
I can’t speak. My chest burns with the weight of his words, my breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
“So,” Tobias says, spreading his hands as if offering me a choice. “You can decide. Talk to us, tell us what we want to know, or keep your secrets.” His eyes narrow. “Either way, you’re dead. Might as well make yourself useful before it happens.”
That’s it. That’s all I can take.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, and I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. I don’t say a word–I can’t. I just turn and storm out, my vision blurred and my chest heaving.
Behind me, I hear Tobias’s voice, calm and dismissive. “Someone go with her. Make sure she doesn’t get any ideas about escaping.”
My footsteps echo through the long corridor, each one harder than the last as my fury builds. My hands shake at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. I hear light footfalls behind me–quiet, deliberate, almost hesitant.
“Don’t worry, jackass,” I snap, not bothering to look back. “I’m going back to my jail cell. I’m not escaping.“.
There’s no response.
The silence unsettles me, and I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see one of Tobias’s brutes trailing after me.
It’s Jaxon.
His expression is as cold and detached as ever, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he follows me down the corridor. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t acknowledge my words or my glare.
Anger bubbles to the surface, hot and volatile, and I whirl around to face him, stopping in the middle of the hallway.
“How can you stand there?” I demand, my voice trembling with fury. “How can you let them talk about me stand there and-”
like that? Let them decide my death like it’s a fucking item on a menu? Just
“Enough.”
His voice cuts through mine like a blade, low and sharp, but it’s not loud. It doesn’t need to be. His gaze locks onto mine, and for the first time, I see something flicker behind the storm in his eyes.
“You don’t understand,” I continue, my voice breaking. “They’re deciding my death like it’s a business deal, like I’m nothing. How can you just stand there?”
His
response is cold and cutting, each word striking like a whip. “If you’re expecting a hero,” he says, his voice low and even you’re in the wrong place.”
The tears that have been threatening to fall finally break free, hot and angry. I clench my fists, my chest heaving, and before I can stop myself, I swing at him, my knuckles hitting his chest with a dull thud.
He doesn’t even flinch.
Pain shoots up my hand, and I let out a frustrated cry, clutching my fist to my chest. “I hate you,” I hiss, my voice cracking. “I hate all of you.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes again–something I can’t place.
