Chapter 33 #2
The man doesn’t stop. He drags me to the final door, throws it open, and shoves me inside. “I found this bitch trying to sneak in,” he growls.
The room is warmer than the corridor, but darker. I don’t have time to make out any faces before he shoves me forward, forcing me onto my knees. Pain ricochets through them once more as they hit the floor.
A rough hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so hard it tears a sound from my throat. My eyes sting and my chest heaves.
I’ve survived worse than this.
I’ve walked free from The Cell. I’ve walked away from an Enforcer beating or two. I survived the war.
I’m not weak. Not some fragile little thing. I’m fierce, and I’m fire, and I’m ready to face this head on.
“Zachary Hastings won’t be happy when he finds out about this,” I spit, opening my eyes.
The room is larger than I expected, filled with the surprising scent of whiskey, smoke, and cinnamon. It’s painted a deep red, with mahogany office furniture scattered around.
Eight faces stare back at me, startled, tense, and most of them armed. For a second, no one moves. My heart slams against my ribs.
Then my eyes find him.
Zac.
He’s standing near the far wall, half in shadow, black jacket still on. His expression isn’t shock; it’s fury, his jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful, his fists coiled at his sides.
But it’s his eyes that stop me cold. Blazing, dark, dangerous, and fixed solely on me.
“You’re right about that,” he snarls, low and threatening. The man behind me stiffens, fingers still tangled in my hair as Zac takes a single step forward.
The man releases me, and I slump forward, hands scraping the carpet as I shakily catch myself.
“Everyone out,” Zac bites out, the words a growl that slice through the air.
Nobody hesitates. Chairs scrape, boots shuffle, and in seconds the room is emptying, feet hurrying past me.
“Not you!” Zac snarls, moving faster than the speed of light before his hand shoots out to grab the man who’d brought me here. He fists the guy’s grey shirt and yanks him back so hard he almost loses his footing, the sound of fabric tearing filling the silence.
A flicker of satisfaction washes over me as the man’s top is ruined.
Karma.
Everyone else scatters, except for the two I vaguely recognise from the Married Sector. The girl with dark blonde, almost bronde, hair, pale and sharp-eyed, and the man with a black buzz cut who she’s always with—her husband, no doubt.
Zac’s friends.
Zac finally tears his glare away from the man he’s holding to look down at me. His expression softens ever so slightly, but I can see the fury that still burns beneath. He lets go and crouches down, his breath harsh.
“Are you hurt?” he demands, voice low and rough. His eyes drop to the tear in my top and the skin beneath.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly.
“No. You’re not.” His jaw flexes, and his cheek shifts as he exhales. “You shouldn’t fucking be here, Emilia.”
I flinch at the sharpness of his tone, but lift my chin anyway. “Maybe if you’d stop vanishing every night, I wouldn’t have to follow you.”
His nostrils flare, and for a second, I think he might actually explode. But instead, he straightens abruptly, shoving a hand through his hair before snapping his gaze to the girl. “Claudia,” he grits out, pointing towards me. “Stay with her. Don’t let her move.”
Without another word, he turns back to the man who dragged me in, his expression changing again, colder with a false calm that promises a raging storm within. His hands clench into fists.
“You,” he says.
“I didn’t know—”
“She told you who she was to me,” Zac snaps.
“That doesn’t mean shit, Zac! Anyone could lie to try to get in here.”
An expression I’ve only seen once before—when I got home from The Cell—takes over Zac’s face. Dark. Stoney. Eyes brimming with fire. When he answers, his tone is guttural. “So you rip their clothes off?”
“That was an accident. I was just doing my job—”
Zac doesn’t pause. He grabs him by the collar, hauls him up, and slams him against the wall hard enough that the metal groans. Every motion is filled with quiet, simmering rage as he drags him towards the door.
Claudia kneels beside me, gently pulling my hands from where they’re clutching my torn top. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, inspecting my side.
My eyes fix on the door as Zac disappears. Claudia’s husband exhales beside us, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’d better make sure he doesn’t kill Jeremiah,” he mutters before following, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Claudia says softly, finishing her inspection and sitting back on her haunches. “No blood, but that top’s done for.”
“It’s my fault,” I say quietly, shifting my knees out from under me. “I’m the one who tried to get inside this place.”
Claudia smirks. “Well, you managed it.”
“Not really.”
She shrugs, a twinkle of amusement in her green-blue eyes. “Gives me an excuse to finally meet you. I’m Claudia.”
“Emilia.”
Her smile widens. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’ve heard nothing about you,” I admit.
She laughs, light and unbothered. “I’m not surprised. I’m one of Zac’s friends.” She extends a hand.
I hesitate, then take it. “I’m his… wife,” I say quietly.
She’s grinning as she stands, offering a hand to help me up and gesturing for me to take one of the red cushioned chairs before the wooden desk.
I slowly sink into it, eyes wide as they sweep over the room, taking in the Persian rug spread over the floor, the shelves lined with books, and the paperwork that fills the desks.
Claudia crosses to a small gold bar trolley in the corner of the room, pouring two glasses of amber liquid before bringing one over to me.
“Here,” she says, holding it out. “You look like you need it.”
“Got that right,” I mutter as I take the glass, but only sip it, the burn searing down my throat. I still don’t fully trust her. She nods, taking a long sip of her own before dropping onto the chair beside me with a sigh.
“This isn’t how I imagined tonight’s meeting going,” she muses.
“Meeting? What is this place?”
Her eyes meet mine. “That’s a question you’ll have to ask Zac.”
“So he can fob me off by telling me I’m safer not knowing? Great.”
Claudia hums, sitting straighter and taking another sip. “He may have a point.”
“I’m a big girl. I’m in danger every day of my life. I can handle a little more.”
Claudia grins, holding her glass out towards me. “I knew I’d like you.”
“What exactly has he told you?”
“Not much. But that’s the point,” she murmurs, swirling her glass. “And every damn week, he’s been getting more and more intolerable to be around.” A small smirk tugs at her lips. “You’re pushing his buttons. And that’s perfect; just what he needs.”
“He literally can’t stand being around me,” I mutter.
“Don’t kid yourself, Emilia.” Her tone softens. “He spends more time with you than any of us ever thought he would.”
“I hardly see him—”
“Plus, did you see that absolute alpha male, possessive bullshit he just pulled?” She smiles, pointing with the glass in her hand. “They’ll be talking about that for months.”
“Who’s they?”
She gestures around us. “Everyone who was here for the meeting. And I doubt Jeremiah will be given door duty ever again.”
“Seriously, Claudia, I need to know—” The door slams open, and the walls practically rattle.
“Oh, look, it’s the knight in shining armour, back to protect his treasure,” Claudia teases with a smirk.
Zac storms through the doorway. Familiar black leather covers his broad shoulders, his hair is mussed up, and each breath he draws is sharp and ragged. His angry gaze cuts across the room before zeroing in on me. My stomach twists, caught between relief and fear.
Claudia’s husband slips in behind him, shaking his head at her as Zac closes the distance between us in two long strides. His eyes sweep over me, head to toe.
“Are you okay?” His voice is low, urgent, and it lands somewhere in my chest.
“I’m fine,” I say softly.
His jaw tenses, and he nods, taking a step back. Exhaling, he reaches up, running a hand through his hair as the other lands on his hip.
“I’m sorry,” I start, words spilling out, “I shouldn’t have—”
“We’re leaving.” Before I can protest, his hand is on my arm. Gripping it, firm and steady.
But not tight. Not punishing.
The difference between the man who dragged me through those corridors and Zac’s hold slams into my being like a knock to the head.
My husband’s grip is careful and protective.
Any time he’s ever grabbed me, even in the midst of anger or panic, it’s always been like this. He’s never held on in a way that could hurt me. The realisation lodges itself in my chest, in my lungs, in my throat, practically choking me. My stomach twists, hands trembling at my sides.
“But… I came here—”
“I always knew you were stupid, Emilia, but this takes the fucking cake.” His voice is venomous.
“Does it?” I snap back, voice rising. “I needed to find out what you were doing. Whether my life was in danger!”
His jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring. “And what did that achieve? If I wasn’t here, you could have been killed.”
“You were here.” I roll my eyes. “I followed you, obviously.”
“Absolute brat,” he spits. “You should have—”
“Should have what? Asked you? I fucking did!” His entire body seems to tremble with fury, jaw clenched, eyes blazing, utterly unfiltered, and I’m sure I look exactly the same.
Claudia is frozen in her chair, wide-eyed, lips parted, as though she’s watching her favourite soap opera. Her husband drifts to the bar trolley, pouring a drink.
“Let’s go,” Zac hisses, his voice almost indiscernible through the fury. He pulls me from the chair, across the room, out of the office, and into the corridor beyond.