Chapter Twenty-Five
Ember
Toby isn’t smart enough to walk straight out of the apartment.
When he leaves the office in a huff, he stops in the middle of the living room, and makes the extremely stupid decision of glaring at me threateningly.
I arch an eyebrow at him, completely unamused by his antics.
He wants to fuck around? I’ll make sure he finds out.
“Here to cry about your cousin?” I ask mildly, staring at the laptop instead of gracing him with my gaze. I’ve tried cracking through the constraints Max put on it, but failed.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you,” Toby says darkly. “I get that shit happens and orders have to be followed, but you could at least have the decency to look into your marks. My cousin had a wife and kids—”
“Then he was in the wrong business. Being in organized crime precludes most smart people from having families. Tell me, was your cousin stupid, or did he want to abandon his family? If he had two brain cells to rub together, it had to have been one or the other.”
I’m well aware that antagonizing Toby is not the kindest move here, but if he expects me to fold like a lawn chair for ensuring my own survival, he has another thing coming. I did what I had to do, just like I’m sure he has many times.
My taunt works exactly how I wanted it to.
Toby’s anger gets the best of his single functioning brain cell, and he lunges across the room at me, drawing a knife from his belt.
I shut the laptop and smash it over his knee when he’s close enough.
A sickening crunch echoes through the living room—partly from the cracked cover of the laptop, partly from Toby’s dislocated knee.
Toby drops down like a bag of bricks, letting out a muffled moan of pain.
I stand, round him, and break the laptop over the back of his head, dazing him.
Then, I leisurely swipe the knife from where he dropped it, and flip it around in my hand. I catch his body as it begins to tilt sideways, take a fistful of his hair, and put the blade at his neck.
“You made the mistake of thinking you were attacking an unarmed opponent,” I say conversationally.
“I can turn anything into a weapon. Anything. I could find a way to kill you with a fucking papercut if I were so inclined. Lucky for you, I have neither the time nor the desire to deal with the consequences should I kill you, so here’s the deal.
Max called you in here to help research my half-sister, right? ”
Toby nods carefully but doesn’t move. He has at least enough intellect to understand that I will hurt him badly if he keeps pissing me off.
“Excellent. You will follow orders. You will not retaliate on my little sister. If you do…” I trail off with a chuckle. “Don’t make the mistake of assuming you’re safe here just because I’m a captive, Toby. I’ll kill you with fucking pleasure. You have no idea who you’re going against.”
The only reason I even trust that he’ll do his job is I’ve observed the chain of command here in action.
Max ranks high, and I heard him issuing threats in his office.
Toby may be angry, but he’s not as stupid as I’m accusing him of being.
He just needs a push in the right direction, and I’m more than happy to provide him with that.
“So,” I say carefully, “I’m going to let you go now—I’ll be keeping this cute little knife, though. You’re going to walk out the door, go to whatever hidey-hole you call an office, and dedicate all of your energy to researching Alina Braxton. If you fail, I will—”
“What?” Tobias says, sounding aghast.
I roll my eyes. Maybe I hit him a bit too hard over the head—after all, I need his brain to be functional at least long enough to find my sister.
I know I shouldn’t trust Max, but… I distrust him marginally less than I distrust Dagon.
I think Max is telling the truth when he tells me that he’ll protect her if it means having me.
And, if I’m proven wrong… killing him is still an option.
Even if a pinch of guilt tightens my ribs at the thought.
“Say that name again!” Toby snaps, going entirely still.
I roll my eyes. He might be concussed. “Alina Braxton,” I say slowly, sounding it out. “Do you need me to spell it for you?”
“You… you’re sisters with Alina?” he nearly gasps.
“You know Alina?” My brows slam down, and my jaw clenches. I press the blade harder against his neck. What the hell does he know about my sister? Do they know each other personally? Is she a target? Is—
“Ember,” Max says quietly. I flick a glance up—he’s leaning against the open office door, hands in his pockets, one leg crossed over the other, looking as casual as you please.
He must’ve been there for a while… and he didn’t stop me until he realized I was about to draw blood. “That’s enough. Let him do his job.”
“Just a little nick,” I try to bargain.
Max shakes his head, hiding a smile. “No can do, baby. I need him unharmed. Let him go, please.”
“You’re no fun.” I release Toby with a shove. He scrambles to his feet, spins around, and stares at me with eyes as wide as saucers.
“You know Alina?” he repeats.
“Are you part parrot?” I query. “Is your party trick regurgitating what people say to you? Yes, asshole, I fucking know Alina. Now, do your fucking job.”
“Go,” Max says, watching as Toby scurries out. He turns to me as soon as Tobias is gone. “I’m going to take care of this for you, Ember. Do you believe me?”
I don’t reply. I don’t not believe him, which is a danger in itself, because I shouldn’t believe him. In fact, I shouldn’t have told him anything.
Even with that knowledge, everything I’ve seen so far tells me that Maximus is a lesser evil than Dagon, and considering my current predicaments, that’s the only qualification that’s truly required.
It’s better for me to be under his thumb than Dagon’s, and if he can free Alina, I’ll be his willing servant.
I’ll hate him and myself, as I’ve hated myself and Dagon for years, but I’ll survive.
And maybe Alina will have the chance to thrive…
which is all I could really ask or hope for.
“You’ll see,” Max says, and for once, I let myself feel a faint flicker of hope, no matter how distant or fleeting. “Kneel.”
The hope dies out, followed rapidly by dejection.
I know better than to refuse now. I leave the blade I stole from Tobias on the couch and sink to my knees reluctantly.
Max doesn’t need to tell me what position he wants me in this time; I flatten my hands on my thighs, square my shoulders, and lower my head.
“Good girl.” Max sounds genuinely pleased at my ready compliance, not realizing that I’m fantasizing about ways to murder him.
I’m not a submissive woman, and while I can’t deny that Max has inspired some strange sensations in me, this isn’t me.
I’m not someone who will yield to another, especially when my submission hasn’t been earned.
Max may be an impressive specimen, but he’s done jack shit to truly earn my submission.
“You remembered.” He sounds infuriatingly pleased at the prospect.
“Hard to forget when someone humiliates you,” I quip.
“Ah, but Ember, this isn’t humiliation. I’m not degrading or devaluing you—I think you know that.”
I don’t respond. He can tell himself whatever he wants, he can make me do whatever he wants, so long as he protects Alina.
“Okay, stand,” he says, switching gears. I straighten and stand, watching as he gazes at the broken laptop with amusement. “I see you weren’t interested in doing some shopping.”
“I was far more interested in putting Toby in his place,” I agree with a nod.
“Well, then.” Max looks like he stifles a laugh. “Those moves you pulled were pretty impressive. Too bad they didn’t work when you tried them on me.”
When I open my mouth to retort, he yanks me onto his lap and presses his thumb to my lips—then pops it between my lips. His eyes grow hooded. “Suck,” he says softly.
Fucking asshole. I wrap my lips around his thumb and run my tongue under the pad, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. If he wants a preview of what my service will look like, I might as well make it good, especially considering what he’ll be doing for my sister.
He pushes his thumb farther into my mouth, until it’s nearing the back of my throat.
I nearly gag around it but manage to hold back—my delicate gag reflex is one of the first things I learned to control.
Difficult to do when I was trapped in small spaces with rotting corpses, but once I learned to ignore the urge to vomit from that, my stomach—and gag reflex—became far stronger and more reliable.
“Fuck,” Max groans quietly. I almost smile. “You are a dangerous woman, Ember.”
I nip his thumb before pulling back. “You have no fucking clue, Maximus.”