Page 244 of Scarlet Wars
But I heard it.
I felt it.
It sliced through me like someone had rammed a blade between my ribs.
I couldn’t let them hurt her.
I couldn’t let them hurt any of them.
I couldn’t let this turn into a slaughter because I panicked.
For a heartbeat—only one—the pressure was so crushing, so suffocating, I felt myself lean toward it. Lean toward surrender. Toward doing anything, everything, to stop that glowing Corona from carving into Saoirse’s skin.
Shit, this was exactly what they wanted.
They wanted me frantic.
They wanted me drowning.
They wanted me obedient.
A puppet with a pulse.
No.
No fucking way.
They were bluffing. They had to be. Our alliance with Petru had rattled them to their core; I’d seen fear in them the last time we’d stood face-to-face. They wouldn’t risk detonating everything now.
I just needed time.
Time until backup stood between us and whatever insanity the Chiefs were planning.
I dragged air into my lungs until it scraped raw, then forced my spine straight, locking my knees before they could buckle, and tightened my grip on the Skindo until the ridges carved into my palm.
“The way I see it,” I said as dryly as I could manage, “you’ve got something to hold over me right now. But the second you carry out your threat, you lose your leverage. Completely.” I clenched my jaw, heat pulsing in my temples. “You let her go, and we’ll talk.”
The Chief exhaled, long and tired, like I was the one being unreasonable. “Call in your men, Ms. Thompson…or watch your best friend die.”
They wouldn’t do it.
They couldn’t do it.
If they killed her, the leash snapped. The leverage vanished. The threat died with her.
They wouldn’t.
But gods, it was one hell of a risk to take.
A sickening, bone-deep gamble.
Fuck!
I swallowed hard, pushing down the tremor crawling up my spine, gathering whatever shards of control I still had left. I lifted my chin, even though my pulse was rioting, frantic and unsteady.
“No,” I whispered.
Quiet, but solid.
