Chapter 33 #3
The light still flickers, a harsh, brutal white that has me cringing.
Zac pushes through a door, and the light instantly dims to a deep purple glow that surrounds every inch around us.
The room we enter is massive. Tables, stools, and scattered groups of people.
They’re laughing, talking, drinking, and moving with an ease that makes my chest loosen in shock.
It’s a bar.
A proper bar.
Music hums quietly beneath the chatter, and a bartender pours a spirit into a tumbler before handing it to the redhead opposite him.
If it weren’t for Zac’s grip, I’d stop to take it all in. My mouth opens, then closes, words caught in my throat. There are glasses clinking, people leaning close over tables, peanuts and crisps in bowls.
It’s utterly absurd.
I blink once more, trying to clear my vision.
The unbelievable image doesn’t vanish.
But the moment passes in a heartbeat. Zac doesn’t slow, dragging me through the groups of people in the purple bar.
We leave through some double doors, into a metal-walled room, a stairwell before us.
The steps are wide, metal and straight, and creak under our weight.
I grip the railing, heels clicking against the steps, heart hammering in my chest. He doesn’t say a word, but the intensity radiating from him warns me to stay quiet.
At the bottom, he guides me to the metal hatch—the very one I tried to knock on.
One twist, and a tug of his hand, and he pulls me through the hatch, leading me back into the husk of the abandoned factory.
My mind races, but a flicker of admiration sparks through me.
This is genius. A perfect, invisible place that’s hidden beneath the State’s nose.
He doesn’t release me until we’ve passed the rusty gate at the far end, stepping out into the empty street. I stumble slightly, catching my breath, the night air cold against my exposed skin.
He turns, his expression fierce, dark, alive with frustration. It’s utterly menacing, pinning me in place. His chest heaves once, twice, as if on the brink of utter destruction.
Slowly, I straighten, standing tall and crossing my arm across my chest. “So? What is that place?”
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he says, voice low, rough, and raw.
“That’s not news to you.”
“Fucking hell,” he snaps, a bitter laugh slipping out of him. He rakes a hand through his hair, pacing half a step before facing me again. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”
“Me?”
“Running off and trying to break into places you don’t understand?” His voice rises, losing some of its malice.
“You’re here,” I throw back, chin lifting. “So how scary can it be?”
He stops dead.
Then, slow and deliberate, he raises an arm and jabs a finger back towards the factory. “They,” he says, tone deepening, “have the power to interrogate whoever they fucking want. Someone shows up who no one knows?” His eyes flash. “I doubt they’d make it out alive.”
“But I know you.” That stops him. His jaw flexes, the fury cracking and something flickering behind it, but it’s gone before I can blink.
“Emilia—”
“What is that place?” He exhales, short and harsh, and his temper shatters.
“For fuck’s sake!” He turns away, fists clenching.
When he faces me again, his words cut like a knife.
“Do you know what? When they married me off, I expected some docile, small little State follower who wouldn’t say boo to a fucking goose.
” His eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate. “This is worse.”
“Liar.”
His nostrils flare as his whole body goes still, like he’s weighing up how to respond.
“Stay out of my fucking business, Emilia,” he says, voice low and shaking with restraint. “And stay where you belong.” He jerks his chin towards the street, up towards the house. “Back there.”
“You’re out of your goddamned mind if you think I’m going to listen to you.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, breathless with anger. I step forward, closing the gap between us. “I never have, so why would I start now?”
His gaze flicks down my mouth, my throat, then back up. The muscle in his jaw tenses again, his breath shifting slightly as his eyes settle back on mine.
“And now,” I say, quieter, but steady with defiance, “I’m even more determined to find out what you’re hiding.”
“Emilia—”
“I’m not docile,” I cut in. My pulse hammers. “I’m a bitch. I’d rather burn City Hall to the ground than bow to the State. And I will say more than fucking boo to you.”
Something in him hovers on the verge of snapping. His chest rises, sharp. His eyes darken, dragging over me again, this time with something darker and deeper than fury.
“You should stop talking,” he mutters, voice rough.
“Why?” I snap, taking another step, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.
He doesn’t answer. His jaw works and his fists flex, trying to ignore the question, and the way I’m trying to provoke him.
“I think,” I breathe, tilting my chin up until the space between us is almost gone, “that something, deep, deep inside of you likes that.”
He moves.
No warning, no hesitation. He launches himself at me.
His hands find my waist, hard enough to make me stumble, the world narrowing to his heat and my heartbeat. He’s unleashed; something has snapped, leaving behind a feral animal that has no restraint.
My fingers coil around the lapels of his jacket, heart racing. But instead of pushing him off, I pull. Hard. Our bodies meet with a jolt, the impact rough enough to steal my breath. His head dips, and mine lifts, our foreheads crashing together, aggressive and human and alive.
“I think something inside you wants that,” I whisper, voice catching somewhere between defiance and desire.
He breathes hard, a rough, frustrated sound that brushes against my skin.
His hand slides up, catching the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as he yanks it back, forcing my face up, exposing me to his eyes.
Fiery, wild eyes.