21. CHAPTER 21 #2
Zayne smiled back and clasped their shoulder to grab them into a hug, except the sound of running froze them both. Imani squeezed past her partner and plowed into Zayne, nearly knocking the wind from him.
He laughed low at how tightly she wrapped her arms around his middle, and he patted her back. “Hi, Imani.”
“Don't.” She jerked her head back and glared at him.
“I know exactly how close you two came to dying. We will not act casually about it. Ashantae keeps getting into trouble, too.” One more fierce hug, and then Imani released him.
Her long twists fell back over her shoulders.
The edges of her hair lay slick against her tawny skin in ornate swirls.
“You all will be the death of me. All of you.”
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“You should be.” Imani studied him from head to toe with her brows pinched. “You look well enough.”
Ashantae slipped beneath Zayne's arm for a quick embrace before nudging him toward the door. “You can dress him down inside.”
Brock already sat at the kitchen table, snacking on a bowl of almonds.
“Are you finally using the investments?” If not, he'd snatch that food from Brock's hand. His friend didn't know Ashantae resisted using the money he sent.
“For this,” Imani said. She managed Zayne's investments in the territories. “I tried to use funds to patch our roof, and Tae sold some weapons instead.”
Zayne cut a glare at Ashantae, but they appeared unfazed.
“I told you I can send more without suspicion,” he said.
Ashantae sat beside Brock. “If it wasn't dangerous to send more, you would have done it already.”
Stubborn. The couple looked like they'd eaten enough, at least, and Ashantae's boots were not too worn. So, they'd at least taken care of their basics. But Zayne didn't want these two struggling financially, especially when they both sacrificed so much.
Ashantae snapped their fingers twice, eyes on him. “Talk, Zayne. We didn't come here for you to silently obsess.”
This made Brock snort.
Zayne took the seat across from Ashantae. “I'm sending more money, and it stays liquid for anything you two need.”
“Fine,” Ashantae said. “If you agree to communicate. I'm not guessing at what your grunts and stares mean.”
Zayne smirked. “Fine.”
“Anything new with Kira since your update?” Ashantae asked.
“No. She's doing well with my mother. It's concerning.”
“Why is that concerning?” Imani took the seat next to him. “Your mom will be great for her.”
“Because the Phaedra wants Kira to trust us so he can manipulate her.” Brock nodded at Zayne. “He's been an outrageous asshole to push her away.”
“Oh,” Imani said, eyes on Zayne. “I completely understand.” Reaching her hand out expectantly for the almonds, Brock passed the dish to her. “So, you're treating her like shit hoping to foil the Phaedra's plan?”
Zayne swallowed hard, nervous about that look in Imani's eyes. “Yes.”
She nodded, sliding an almond in her mouth. Then she picked up another and lobbed it at his eye. One at his forehead. Soon she threw the entire cup against his face, scattering almonds all over him, the table, and the floor.
Zayne kept his eyes on her, refusing to react.
“You're picking those up.” Imani plucked an almond from his shoulder and ate it before making a show of leaving for the other side of the table.
A slow sigh escaped, and Zayne brushed the almonds off his shoulders and lap. “Are you finished?” he asked Imani.
“For now.”
Brock leaned back in his chair, looking as excited as a kid opening birthday presents.
“We're still eating those,” Ashantae said. “Nuts are expensive.”
“May the Old Ones have mercy.” Imani groaned. “Zayne, you're done being mean to that girl. Hear me?”
“It's fine,” Zayne said. “Kira figured out what I was doing. I'm stopping.”
“I'm sure you're being a perfect sweetheart,” Imani said.
Zayne flicked another almond off his leg.
Ashantae studied him thoughtfully. “So, you're in a spiral because the only option for breaking Kira out of your parents’ house is to do it yourself or to pin it on someone you don't mind your father chopping into a hundred pieces.”
Zayne held his breath. “Yes.”
“If you do break her out, then all of this is gone,” Ashantae said.
“The investments we use to fight the war.
Intelligence that saves countless civilians.
Your influence at the highest levels of the Phaedra's inner circle. And the future of using High General to destroy the Phaedra and any successor.”
Every word drove a spike through his chest. Despite the fact that Imani just threw almonds all over him, she reached across the table and slid her hand over his.
“On the other hand,” Ashantae said. “Break Kira out, and you stop the Phaedra from slaughtering hundreds of Followers.”
Kira or the rebellion.
He lowered his eyes to the table. “I'm aware that keeping my position in the regime is better for the long-term tactical and political advantage.”
“If you live long enough,” Ashantae said. “If you don't fail. It might be clear in theory, but not in practice.”
“I say maybe you could do more with one dying breath than a lifetime at his side.” Imani held his eyes across the table. “I, for one, would love to see Zayne Riven fighting un-fucking-leashed with nothing holding him back.”
The challenge stirred inside him. What Zayne wouldn't give to escape this prison and do all he wished.
“It's hard to say, Imani.” Ashantae simpered. “He's not replaceable on the inside. No one except Brock knows all that he does, but just from what I know, it would be devastating to lose.”
No longer did Brock smirk. “The best option is to find someone to break her out and take the fall. We can't leave her to be tortured, and Zayne shouldn't abandon his life's mission.”
“I did consider killing him.” Zayne stared at a scratch on the table.
“Him?” Brock looked around at each person and back to Zayne. “Surely it's not the Phaedra you're casually floating killing?”
“I haven’t killed him before because the regime doesn't end with him,” Zayne said.
“He's particularly ruthless and effective, but even so, the Phaedras are not broken by the death of one when it gives life to the next. And my father will stand in the gap of the transition. If I killed him, my brother would step in.”
He lifted his gaze to see everyone staring at him in silence, brows pinched or expressions drawn.
“So even if I kill the Phaedra and half my family, the war continues, and the regime lives on, and the assassinations fuel more atrocities. But he does deserve to die, and it's unlikely the next Phaedra is as cunning. His death would create a great distraction for freeing Kira.”
Ashantae eyed him. “You're going to murder the Phaedra despite concluding it's operationally ineffective in order to break Kira Stiles out of Ciondo?”
“No.” Zayne's attention returned to the crack in the table. “I considered it, that's all.”
“Holy hell, Zayne.” Imani pinched the bridge of her nose.
He shrugged. “I've always wanted to kill the Phaedra.”
Brock snorted, and Zayne's glare rose to him.
Ashantae and Imani looked curious now, but Zayne silently warned his friend not to piss him off.
So, of course, Brock opened his mouth and twisted the story however he liked. “Zayne kissed Kira three years ago and never stopped watching over her. She doesn't know it's him because he was masked. And he won't admit he's emotionally compromised.”
“You really do want to die.” Zayne leaned across the table with a scowl. “I am not compromised.”
A moment of quiet settled before Imani let out a disgusted groan. “You're making the woman you kissed think you hate her? Zayne Riven. Zayne Riven!”
Ashantae wasn't speaking or reacting, just watching him with quiet concern.
His nostrils twitched with far more anger than he'd let any of them see. “Kira is an asset to the rebellion. She's a good person, and she deserves every effort to save her.”
“And she's incredible at kissing,” Brock said.
“Fuck you,” Zayne growled. “You're not fucking cute.”
“I'm trying to help you, believe it or not,” Brock said.
“She's my prisoner, and that was one time years ago. I'm with Mellie.”
“Only technically.”
Zayne pushed the chair back, twisting toward him before stopping himself. Brock didn't flinch, likely aware Zayne hated losing control.
Why was he being such an asshole?
A deep breath to calm himself. “I won't tolerate any insinuations when the Phaedra almost ordered me to manipulate her and—” Zayne grunted, shaking his head, refusing to dishonor Kira with the mere mention.
“Fuck. Do you understand the vulnerable position she is in?” His hand slammed the table. “I won't see her that way. Understand?”
A long sigh drifted from Brock, and he rubbed his face. “Yeah, I understand. I didn't mean it in any way. I just think you need to admit that you care.”
“I. Care.” Zayne snarled each word.
“Okay.” Ashantae clapped. “You need someone else to evaluate every aspect of this operation because you can't pretend this isn't compromising your judgment.”
Zayne ground his teeth, picking at the crack, but he nodded.
Brock, much less emboldened than before—and looking like he felt at least a little bad—explained, while Zayne filled in any missing pieces.