Chapter 3 Emery
EMERY
Adrenaline courses through my body. It’s been, what, two minutes maybe, and this man is already leaned over the sink with both hands pressed to the sides while his head hangs with apprehension.
He’s acting like he’s already killed me, and there’s something so disturbing about that.
From what I just heard between Nolan and him, I gather he has a problem with murdering people. I’d even bet unintentionally by the way Nolan spoke.
Great. Isn’t that just my fucking luck?
I don’t think I’m going to find a way out of this one. He’s easily twice my size, and those cold, untrusting eyes make me uneasy. I swallow and contemplate my options while I study his movements.
Nolan handed him something before he left. I’m not sure what it was, but this guy wasted absolutely no time swallowing them. It could’ve been literally anything, but my money is on drugs of some kind. Pain killers maybe, since his eye has a fresh cut through it.
I watch him carefully. He’s easily the most attractive human being I’ve ever met, and it makes me even more wary of him.
I’ve never trusted beautiful men. The ones I’ve known have all but ruined me one way or another.
Whether it be with toxic lies or blatant disregard for me as a person. Beautiful men are dangerous.
His hair is pale blond, practically white.
He has the same haircut as Nolan but more grown out, I’m guessing from being locked up in here for God knows how long.
A dark red, still-fresh looking scar glides vertically down his left eye.
He keeps it narrowed, leaving only the right one visible.
His eye color is the loveliest shade of green I’ve seen, something between sage and gray.
His good eye keeps moving hesitantly in my direction to steal glances at me.
His charcoal hoodie fits his figure, but he keeps raising his arms and threading his fingers through his hair anxiously, lifting the bottom of the sweatshirt and exposing his stomach muscles. My eyes linger longer than they should.
Looks like I won’t be sleeping for the next twenty-four hours. I curl my hands around my arms in a feeble attempt at self-comfort, but there’s literally only air and the thin material of my T-shirt between me and a beast.
He finally straightens and acknowledges me. I shrink against the wall under his pensive gaze.
“Looks like you’re stuck down here with the wolves…
fuck.” His British accent is light and lilting.
I fear it’s the most charming I’ve heard.
He brushes strands of hair from his forehead, staring at me with half-lidded eyes.
“What’s your name, love?” he asks casually as he shoves his hands into the center pocket of his hoodie.
His voice is like an eventide chill—a deep melody I could close my eyes and lose myself to.
I hesitate before answering, figuring there’s no sense in not telling him. “Emery.”
He smirks at my wavering voice.
“My name is Cameron, but most people around here call me by my code name, Mori. You can call me whichever you’d like, it doesn’t matter to me.
Chances are you won’t be speaking much after today anyway.
” I scowl at his careless tone. He’s really going to be that bold, huh?
Acting like I’ll just lie down and die. My hands curl into fists.
He speaks well. Proper, unlike how I expected him to by his callous appearance and, quite frankly, for being down here in a Dark Forces cell.
He looks like a complete meathead—that hoodie doesn’t hide his muscles at all—but it’s clear there’s also a ticking brain behind his sharp jaw and curious eyes.
How much does it take for him to get angry? Only one way to find out, I suppose, deciding to test his patience.
“Mori? As in to die in Latin?” My condescending tone earns me a wider grin; his teeth are white and aligned perfectly.
He lifts a shoulder and mutters, “Some like to interpret its meaning as to conquer.” A suggestive raise of his brow has my heart beating faster.
“Some? You mean you.”
That earns me a firm frown.
“Emery, did Nolan tell you why you were being put in a solitary confinement cell with me?” He takes one step toward me.
I take a deep breath, forcing my legs to remain still and hold my ground.
“No, he didn’t say a word about you. But from your conversation, it sounds like there’s something deeply, disturbingly wrong with you.
” I make sure to emphasize my words at the end so I can watch the irritated veins thicken in his wrists again.
He tilts his head to the side. An inquisitive look flashes across his face as he says sarcastically, “How perceptive of you. One tends to end up in solitary when there is something disturbed about them, and—news flash—something is wrong with you, too, if you’ve landed yourself in a cell with me.”
My jaw grinds at his comment. He’s witty. Don’t let him pick you apart, I chide myself.
His eyes are hollow and solely focused on me. My spine melds with the wall as he takes a few long steps until he’s standing a mere few inches away. He slowly sets both hands on either side of my head, lowering and bringing his eyes level with mine.
My heart beats so vehemently that I can feel the flutter of my carotid artery pulsing against my skin. It feels like there’s not enough oxygen in the air for both of us.
He’s staring at me, not saying or doing anything, but it feels like he’s peeling all my layers back and trying to see what makes me tick.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my throat bobbing.
He doesn’t respond, but his eyes dip to my lips before surveying my features up close.
His scent is intoxicating; it’s drowned in bergamot and birch, reminding me of a quiet place in the forest where I used to sit beneath the stars on my family’s many acres.
I close my eyes against his haunting gaze.
“I’m going to kill you, isn’t it obvious?” His voice is deep, rich with dark intentions. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’ll follow through on his word.
My eyes open with the realization that death is truly this close to claiming me. Yet fear doesn’t grip me. I’d been wondering what face the devil would wear when it finally came for me.
I look at him, tracing every inch of his face. Who knew he’d be so young and handsome.
“Are you?” I murmur indifferently. He must be dumber than I thought, thinking that I won’t fight back. The hope of freedom that Nolan planted in my head has given me something to want for myself.
Something I’ve never truly had.
His gaze narrows as I thrust my hand toward his head, aiming for the soft spot of his temple.
He grabs my wrist easily and pins it against the wall.
His touch is cold, befitting of the whole broken soldier vibe he has going on.
I inhale a sharp breath and stare into those daunting eyes, willing him to try and end my senseless life.
I’ve already been thrown away by my father. My mother technically threw me away too. Her kindness to me never meant protection from him. It was more of an apologetic Band-Aid for being a pushover. She technically threw me away too.
I let my arms slacken in his hold, and his mouth quirks into a suspicious grin.
Cameron pulls me into his chest. “You think you’re special, don’t you?
That I won’t tear out your heart,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, like a lover would.
My spirit falters as a thread of excitement pulses through my veins.
I don’t know why I love danger. Maybe it’s the natural high I crave so much, but I haven’t felt this exhilarated since my last victim.
If he wants to play games, then let’s play.
“You won’t even give me a chance to tear out yours?
” I murmur back sweetly, stroking my palm down his crotch.
It distracts him the way I knew it would, those eyes widening as he takes a sharp breath.
I take the opportunity, stomping on the arch of his foot between his pinky and ring toe.
Surprise flashes over his features, and he grunts as his body fails him, collapsing to the ground.
Pressure points come in handy in close quarters, especially against bigger foes. The larger they are, the easier it is to hit the mark.
Cameron glares, but instead of taking a moment to process his body crippling on him like I thought he would, he grabs my ankle as I try to move to the other side of the room and yanks me to the ground.
My ass hits the concrete, and before I can kick his hands off my leg, he pulls me beneath him and pins my arms to my sides with his knees.
A cry bubbles up my throat but I refuse to let it out. I bare my teeth at him, struggling to get out of his hold. “Get off me, asshole!”
He leans back on his haunches lazily and laughs. My pulse thunders through my ears, but I try to keep myself calm since he hasn’t actually hurt me yet.
“You think this is funny?” I grind the words through my teeth and buck my hips as hard as I can.
Either he underestimated my strength or he just assumed that I’m an idiot when it comes to combat, because his relaxed body gets sent straight over my head.
He smashes his face on the cement wall. I’m on my feet in the blink of an eye, backing up until my spine is pressed against the cold steel door across the room.
Cameron remains there for a few minutes, unmoving and blood pooling around his head. I start tapping my foot, anxious that I might’ve killed him. It can’t be that easy, not after Nolan talked him up so much.
Don’t, he’s baiting you. But after a few more minutes pass and he doesn’t move, my worries get the best of me. Nolan might be furious if I kill this guy. Clearly, he’s important if they’re keeping him around even though he’s insane. It’s not like I want him to die.
Shit. I’m going to regret this. I can hear Reed scolding me because this is exactly something he’s told me to never do under any circumstances. “Never show your opponent sympathy.”