27
EMERSYN
I must have dozed off because when I woke up, Griffin was gone.
Above me, the atrium was covered with glistening droplets that caught the pale grey of dawn and streaked down the glass like falling stars.
I shivered, thankful for the warmth of the almost humid air inside this place.
Footsteps grew in volume from down the path, and Brooks appeared with a nameless guard I didn’t know behind him.
I hadn’t seen him since the day he’d tied me up on the beach.
“Morning, Hurricane,” Brooks said.
I stood up and flipped him the bird.
Brooks smirked. “So pleasant. Step to the gate.”
I thought it was funny he wasn’t going to come in. I took a few steps toward the gate and when I got closer, I noticed Brooks sported a gnarly bruise on his jaw. It was exactly where I’d landed a kick on my mystery assaulter.
“Rough night?” I drawled.
Brooks’ expression faltered, but he ignored the comment. It didn’t matter, that was enough confirmation for me.
“Wrists,” he ordered.
“Field trip?”
“Something like that,” Brooks said. “Come on, I don’t have all day.” I had no desire to be drugged again, so I stepped closer to the bars and held out my wrists.
“Just so long as it’s not to the beach,” I muttered.
He chuckled darkly. “Nah, boss man wants to see you.”
“It’s about time.”
“Careful what you wish for. I’d consider yourself lucky he had to fly out again right after the guard rotation intake. Bought you a few extra days.”
That sounded particularly ominous, and I was about to ask more questions about it when Brooks cinched the cuffs tighter than he needed to.
My jaw clenched and he sneered. “Too tight?”
I bared my teeth in a grin. “Just right actually.”
“Let’s go, smart ass.”
He unlocked the gate and grabbed my arm.
My fingers itched to wrap themselves around Brooks’ neck in retribution, and I almost reacted.
I easily could have done some damage since he’d cuffed my wrists in front instead of behind.
But, I behaved—mostly because I was curious.
I needed more information and the easiest way to do that was to cooperate. For now.
I’d hoped we would head into the main part of the manor, but instead Brooks and the other guard led the way outside.
The weather was cold, drizzly and grim. I was thankful for the sweatshirt when the wind cut across the grounds.
Brooks dragged me down a path, and it took only a moment to realize we were headed back to the underground cell.
My lips thinned in displeasure, but when I glanced at the other guard, he palmed a small black device that I assumed was for the electrical chip in my shoulder.
He looked ready to use it. But, it wasn’t the device that stopped my attempts at escape.
It was the fact that I was on an island I knew very little about.
It didn’t help that it was also midmorning.
I pursed my lips—the timing was off. I just needed to be patient a little longer.
Once we were below ground, the temperature dropped. Brooks shoved me ahead of him into a cell and locked my cuffs to a chain that ran up along a beam in the ceiling. He left enough slack that my hands rested near my head.
When he stepped aside, a man stood in the doorway.
It could only be Mahoney. As far as bad men went, he certainly looked the part.
He wore a tailored grey suit and coordinated tie, with silver cuff links that glinted as he raised a cigar to his lips.
Everything about him screamed control, and he regarded me with the calculated air of someone who ruled over his domain with excruciating attention to detail.
“Where’d she get the sweatshirt?”
The question seemed to catch Brooks off guard. “A few of the guards have taken a liking to her already, sir,” he answered hesitantly.
Mahoney didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly. He stepped into the room with predatory grace and stood brazenly close. I stared at his immaculately polished shoes until cool fingers slid under my chin and our gazes collided.
Mahoney frowned. “She’s not sedated.”
Again, Brooks shifted uncomfortably. “Ah, no—she came without a fuss so I thought—”
Mahoney let my chin drop and his attention slowly turned on Brooks who seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.
“I thought I was clear,” Mahoney said. “While I was gone, she was to be sedated. At all times.”
“Yes, sir,” Brooks answered. “And she was—mostly—”
“Mostly?”
“There are a few guards who have decided she doesn’t need to be sedated, and have been feeding her outside of the protocol.”
Mahoney’s irritation at his orders not being followed radiated from him. He slipped a hand into his pocket, while the other lifted the cigar and regarded Brooks through the smoke as he exhaled.
“I leave for a few days and she manages to stab Lial in the eye. Did she give Marcello his black eye too? And what about that bruise on your jaw?”
The monotone way Mahoney spoke was somehow more terrifying than if he’d been shouting. Brooks apparently thought so too because he smartly kept his mouth shut. Mahoney let Brooks stew in his disapproval before he gestured at me.
“Do you know who this is?”
“The Hurricane, sir,” Brooks answered dutifully. He sounded happy he could do something correct.
Mahoney took a deep breath like he was dealing with a toddler, the curve of his lips was diabolically condescending. He turned his attention back to me.
“It’s uncanny really.”
“Sir?”
“The resemblance,” Mahoney mused. “Don’t you see it?”
I felt Brooks’ attention, but I was more concerned by the sense of foreboding dread Mahoney’s words instilled. I didn’t understand what he meant, but something told me I should. I settled into that cold place Sacha had instilled during training and stared at Mahoney straight on.
“You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else,” I said flatly, but Mahoney’s smirk only widened at my words.
“I don’t think so,” Mahoney said dryly. “He’s good at that too—the redirect.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do—deep down. I think you have an idea.”
Cold sweat dripped down my back as my instincts screamed he was right—I did know what he alluded to. I just hadn’t allowed myself those thoughts—that hope—in a really long time. I fought the urge to give in to the rush of emotions and instead gave him nothing but a hard glare.
Mahoney’s lips twitched. “That look,” he mused. “It’s the same one he gets when he’s thinking dangerous thoughts.”
No, no, no—
I’d worked very hard to put all of that away for now—to put him away for now. But, the allure of it was too much. I wanted to know he was alive. I wanted to know he was still somewhere out there. Mahoney smoked from his cigar and let the tension thicken, amused with his game.
“Stop fighting it,” Mahoney said. “It won’t change the truth.”
My glare sharpened. “What truth?” I needed him to say it.
He leaned closer. “That you’re Theron North’s daughter.”
Something twisted in my chest and the world fell violently out from under me. Nothing could soften the blow of hearing my father’s name on his tongue. But, it wasn’t just his name that caused such a visceral reaction, it was the fact that Mahoney spoke about him in the present tense.
“He’s alive?” I hated how breathless my voice sounded.
“This is North’s daughter?” Brooks exclaimed. “I thought—”
Mahoney glared at Brooks, apparently he’d had enough. “I don’t pay you to think, Brooks,” he snapped. “Shut the fuck up.”
He turned back with a sick smirk. “Yes. Unfortunately, very much so.”
My breath caught in my throat and it took everything I had to get myself back under control. Sacha’s words brushed like a ghost against my mind, a reminder to not forget my training.
The moment you panic, is the moment you lose.
Ice swept in and calmed the panic, the action like muscle memory.
I glared at Mahoney, my emotions once more under my control.
Mahoney’s gloved finger brushed down my scar and I yanked my head away.
His rough whisper of a laugh drifted over me.
He gripped my chin and leaned down closer with a cruel smile.
“I wonder how much you’re worth to him?” Mahoney gloated inches away from my face. “His money? His empire? His life?”
I scowled. “He–he thinks I’m dead.” I hated that it came out like a question.
A slow predatory smile slipped across Mahoney’s features as his eyes glowed with mirth.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
He took one last puff from his cigar and brought it close to my face. The smoke overwhelmed my senses and my eyes watered. The end glowed and the heat warmed my cheek.
“Your father has been a thorn in my fucking side for too long. He thinks he has control—that he can manipulate me. But, he’ll soon learn how delusional that notion is.”
He ground his words out through clenched teeth and he tightened his grip on my jaw. His breath hit my skin and smelled of smoke. I went to jerk away, but Brooks yanked my wrists above my head.
“And you’re going to be the catalyst, my dear.” Mahoney pressed the ember against the underside of my arm. I growled as the fire seared and burned, but otherwise stayed silent. Mahoney tossed the dead cigar away and patted my cheek roughly.
“Now, you’re going to be a good girl and tell me all your secrets.”
He stepped back with a motion to Brooks who came forward with a syringe. I kicked out at him, but the chain had lifted me onto my toes, and I didn’t have enough leverage to touch him. When the bite of the needle came, the warmth of the drug quickly spread through my veins.
“See you on the other side, Hurricane,” Brooks chuckled.