Chapter 68 Little traitor
LITTLE TRAITOR
KOEN
It’s quiet now in the interrogation lockers at the warehouse.
There had been a flurry of activity when we first arrived, our guys unloading the last of the shipment Giovanni and the Volkov had hoped to intercept earlier today—or well, yesterday now, seeing as it’s a little after four in the morning.
Liam and Aidan have the kid we took from Briar’s apartment back in Aidan’s office.
The child stayed asleep on the drive out and is now curled up on the couch next to Rory, who Aidan insisted we pick up on our way out of Boston.
After what the Volkov tried with Liam, he wasn’t leaving the city without her.
I took over driving from Aidan. Still sleepy-eyed, Rory climbed into the back of the SUV without a word, even when she saw the kid asleep on Liam’s lap. She just gave Aidan a questioning look before falling back asleep on his shoulder before we even hit the highway.
Lily managed to evade Mac and Alex, turning back up at the apartment with a car shortly after we left. She led them on a brief chase through the city before they backed off, not wanting her to get hurt on our account. Mac’s working on trying to track the car, or her phone, as we speak.
I lean my back against the cold cement wall in one of the lockers and wait.
My jaw is clenched so tightly it aches. I haven’t left this spot since I brought Briar down here, limp and unconscious in my arms. She hangs from the ceiling by her wrists, just high enough so her toes barely scrape the concrete below.
I want to see her break. I want to see the fear in her eyes when she finally realizes the consequences of her betrayal.
She lied to me.
She’s been working for Giovanni this entire time, and has likely betrayed me in ways I don’t even know about yet. And tonight, she nearly cost me my brother.
My chin lifts as the chains overhead clink softly as Briar stirs.
Her eyes are still closed, and she’s gagged—a thick cloth in her mouth to keep her quiet—but it doesn’t stop the small whimper that escapes as she begins to wake. Briar’s body trembles slightly, a shiver running through her, reacting to the cold before fully coming to.
She’s wearing what she had on when I took her, but it’s not doing her any favors.
An old, ripped, cut-off t-shirt that exposes her stomach, with a black sports bra visible underneath, along with a pair of black leggings and leg warmers that have fallen down over a pair of worn sneakers.
She must have changed back into her warm-up clothes before fleeing the theater.
I’m still angry with myself, because I should have stripped her. That’s protocol after all; every person we bring back here for questioning ends up naked, exposed, and humiliated. It serves a purpose: access, control, fear.
But I couldn’t.
My jaw clenches even harder as I try to force myself into that cold, lethal void of detachment I know all too well—the place in my mind I retreat to when things need taking care of.
I wanted this. I wanted her helpless. I wanted her chained.
I wanted her to feel a mere fraction of the betrayal she’d carved into me.
But now, seeing her like this, she looks so thin, so vulnerable, with tear-stained cheeks…
my anger sits differently. It’s heavier.
I thought I’d feel satisfaction seeing her at my mercy, but I just feel pain.
She did this, I tell myself, and steel myself for what comes next.
Briar shifts again, fighting her way to consciousness. Her eyes flutter open, connecting with mine, and I smile.
“Hi, little traitor.”
She jerks back violently, screaming through the gag in her mouth. Losing her footing, her sneakers claw for purchase on the slippery cement floor below.
Fully conscious now, her eyes dart around the space. It’s dark; the room itself is lit by only a single bulb overhead. She’s in what used to be an old freezer that we’ve converted and soundproofed for the Devils’ interrogation needs.
She tugs on her hands that are bound over her head, but it’s no use; she’s properly restrained.
Briar steadies herself on the balls of her feet, chest heaving, when her eyes come back to meet mine. I hear my name—a muffled version of it anyway—through the gag as she looks up at me, searching my face—my eyes—for any shred of humanity I might have left in me.
I click my tongue at the look in her eyes. “Ah, ah, ah, none of that, darling. You think those puppy-dog eyes will save you?” My eyes narrow into a glare. “Tell me, little Rose, do you know what the Devils do to traitors?”
The way her entire body shudders tells me she at least has an idea.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” I say, bringing the knife up.
“I’ll show you.” The blade is the same one I held to her throat earlier, and while I don’t touch her with it, she flinches away violently when I bring it closer.
The movement knocks her off the precarious position she’s in atop her toes, and she has to scramble to get her feet back under her again.
I circle her, and she trembles, another terrified whimper escaping her.
Maybe I should have gone with duct tape… The sound slices through me, fracturing something deep within my chest.
I shove the feeling away, reaching for that void again.
“I want to play a game. Do you want to play a game with me, baby?”
She murmurs something incoherent, her eyes pleading with me.
“Truth or dare, little Rose?”
Briar stares into my eyes for another second before she looks away, turning her gaze to the ground, refusing to even humor me.
I click my tongue in disappointment. “Fine. I’ll choose.“
She doesn’t react, staring hard at the floor below.
Annoyed, I slip the tip of my blade under her chin and lift. Her head tilts up, but she keeps her eyes down, refusing to look at me.
Something inside me snaps.
“Look. At. Me,” I growl, my tone lethal.
She won’t.
I step closer, and she closes her eyes. Her body tenses, as if she’s bracing to take a blow.
My hand snaps out, and I grab her jaw, jerking her face closer to me.
“Briar,” I snarl. “Look at me.”
Her eyes slowly lift, and I regret my words.
Her blue eyes are stained red, and wet with tears she’s trying to hold back.
She looks up at me, broken, fragile, and—fuck, she might as well have stabbed the knife through my chest. I see everything—fear, guilt, shame—but worst of all is the tiny flicker of hope I find deep within her eyes.
Misplaced trust that, despite my anger, and her actions, I won’t hurt her.
“You were playing me this whole time?”
Tears finally fall as she loses her battle to hold them in.
My grip on her jaw tightens until her eyes open again, but I hold her there, refusing to let her look away from me again.
“Why, Briar?”
She searches my eyes. Something breaks in her from whatever she finds there, and the tears flow harder and she releases a muffled sob.
“And don’t you fucking lie to me now. One truth. You owe me that much. I want you to tell me why.”
I slide the knife through the cloth that’s keeping her quiet, letting it fall to the floor between us.
She swallows. “You don’t understand…” Her voice cracks, coming out rough and scratchy, and I loosen the grip I have on her jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“Either an explanation comes out of that mouth, or a bullet is going in your skull,” I warn her.
Rage is boiling inside of me, and I’m on the verge of tipping over the edge.
But I think I’m more pissed about how much control she still has over me, how after everything she’s done, I still feel an overwhelming urge to protect her, to keep her safe, even when I’m the one threatening her.
“I never meant for any of this to happen. I—”
“Never meant for this to happen?” I cut her off.
“Briar, you planned this. You were working with Giovanni from the beginning. And the Volkov, the whole fucking time. You knew exactly what you were doing when you betrayed me, and crying now won’t save you.
” Disgusted, I release her, leaving her trembling.
“I wasn’t—I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I snarl, coming at her again fast. She shies away from me, recoiling as far as the chains allow her to.
My chest tightens, feeling as though it might burst, as if my ribs can’t contain the catastrophic damage being done inside.
I point the tip of my blade at her. “You chose wrong.”
Her eyes drop to the knife, the cold steel glinting in the dim lighting as I pace the space in front of her.
“You won’t hurt me. You won’t,” she says, shaking her head.
“You sound pretty confident about that.” I step forward, placing the sharp end of the blade against her skin, a few inches above the little Celtic knot at her neck. The silver charm glints in the low light, taunting me, and I’m tempted to rip it from her throat.
“You won’t hurt me,” she repeats. Her voice shakes with the words, and there’s uncertainty in them, and in her eyes when she looks up at me.
Especially when I press down harder, aware that she can feel the bite of the blade against her skin.
The small prick of blood that appears unleashes a wave of nausea through me.
“You promised,” she whispers, almost as if the words are a prayer.
I lower the knife, pacing the room once again, my chest tight, trying to walk off the anger burning through me before I do something I regret.
Coming for her again, I pull her toward me by the back of her head until our foreheads meet, and I press mine to hers.
Her sweet scent fills my lungs, giving me air to breathe.
“Tell me why, Briar Rose, please.”
“I had to. I didn’t have a choice!” she says again.
“Stop saying that!” I shout, stepping away from her. “You had a choice, you chose, and you didn’t choose me!”
Briar’s eyes flash, giving me a small glimpse of those thorns I love. “No, because I chose her!” she screams back at me, looking like she wants to throttle me, and fall apart, all at the same time.
There’s a pounding on the door that I ignore, staring at Briar as I try to work out what she just said.
“Koen.”
The pounding at my back intensifies. “Go the fuck away, Liam!” I shout through the metal.
Two seconds later, the door slides open anyway.
“What the fuck?” I whirl on him. “I’m a little fucking busy right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but…” his eyes trail over my shoulder to look at Briar. “It’s an emergency.”
“It can wait,” I growl, turning away from him.
“No.”
The unusually somber tone in my brother’s voice has me turning slowly back around.
“It can’t.”
I want to ask him what’s so goddamn important, but Liam’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s watching Briar, and there’s a silent conversation passing between the two that sets off a spiral of rage inside me.
Tears fill her eyes as she stares at my brother, and she gives him the tiniest imperceptible shake of her head.
“There’s something you need to see,” Liam tells me, his voice tight.
“Just tell me what it is,” I say, losing my patience.
“No.” Liam rolls his shoulders back, looking me in the eye this time. “You have to see for yourself.” Bloody fucking hell, he’s not letting this go.
“Aidan’s office,” Liam adds quietly, sneaking another weighted glance at Briar.
“Fine.” I storm out of the locker, leaving Briar and taking my brother with me. I slam the door behind us, because there’s no fucking way I am leaving the two of them alone together after whatever the fuck just went down between them.
Stalking into the office, I find Aidan and Rory standing by his desk in quiet conversation, both of whom tense and go silent when I enter.
“Someone care to tell me what the fuck is so goddamn important that it couldn’t wait—”
My mouth snaps shut when I follow their gaze to the old sofa in the corner, where I find the child we technically kidnapped from Briar’s apartment sitting up.
She’s awake.
The office is silent.
Big, round eyes stare up at me, with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in them. I have to give the little one credit; she hasn’t screamed or cried yet, but under my hard gaze, tears well up in those big green eyes and—
No.
Her eyes aren’t green… not all the way…they’re fractured in half, right down the middle, one side a dark evergreen, and the other… a dark brown.
I can feel everyone looking at me, but I can’t look away from the little girl’s eyes—my eyes.
Mine.
She’s mine.