Page 226 of Claim Me
"Strategic whoring? Exhibit two. Tom. He’s so strung out he barely knows what planet he’s on, and he’s a pathetic slacker who cheats on every exam."
Another eyebrow rises on Edgar’s face. Oh, obviously the poor idiot had no idea about that either.
"Exhibit three, Edgar. I guess that’s strategic too? Wealthy daddy? Fucking himbo, spoiled idiot with nothing but a pretty face, who paid me seventeen times to write his essays, do his stats assignments, and help him pass statistical math!"
Edgar practically jumps when he hears that. I’m not sure if he’s reacting to the jab or to the fact that his own secret just got dragged out.
"Shut the fuck up, idiot!" he mutters.
Marcel lifts his brows slightly and looks at him like that actually surprised him.
Yeah, Edgar probably didn’t want to come off like a dumb airhead in front of Marcel, who had always been a straight-A student without even trying that hard, but oh well, things happen.
"You surround yourself with morons, so let’s not pretend you have anystandards," I sum up.
Marcel clenches his jaw and makes a small gesture toward Edgar, who lights up with a sadistic grin.
Right away, I run through the scenarios again and pick the one where the hit does the least damage possible, and on top of that, mostly because he has no idea how to properly make a fist, Edgar lands it in such a way that he ends up wincing in pain, and I’m only slightly rattled.
"Guess it’s time to start a game he’s not gonna like," Edgar growls.
"Patience, Eddie," Marcel says shortly and turns back to Blue, who’s been watching all of this through narrowed eyes.
"I’ve always wondered whether your famous genius is real or just talk, and whether you’re actually just a craftsman with no flair. We’re about to find out. I figured if you solve a few philosophical and logical problems for me, I might make you suffer a little less. And I might even spare Gabriel a bit too."
I catch Gunman shifting impatiently from one foot to the other, and Edgar looks slightly surprised.
"You think I’m going to play along before I know what the game is?" Blue asks.
Marcel walks up to me, then stops behind my back, and I hear a soft sound.
A thin cord appears in his hand, identical to the one he used to tie my wrists and ankles.
He slips it around my neck but, for now, keeps it loose.
"I think you will," Marcel says coldly. In his voice, I hear the tones I’ve already learned to recognize, psychopathic, ruthless.
Blue looks at him for a moment, then says,
"You can never win with me, Marcel. Not because you don’t have a brain, but because you lack… heart. Although your brain may not be that sharp, after all. There is at least one proof of that which I’ve already seen."
Marcel goes still. Then he laughs, short and ugly.
"You think you can talk down to me?" he snaps.
Blue doesn’t even blink. Marcel’s smile twists.
"It’s you I kidnapped," he says. "It’s you who’s tied to a chair."
Blue’s voice stays level. "Illusion of control."
Marcel’s expression hardens even more. I would advise Blue not to provoke Marcel like this, but I should probably take the same advice, since I did plenty of provoking myself.
But maybe his provocation has a hidden purpose?
Marcel shoots back. "In the end, facts matter. You didn’t see it coming. You’re sitting here on my terms, waiting on my next move."
The silence drops, the reality of our situation pressing down on me.
