Page 50 of Scar Tissue

My heart drops to my stomach. “Useful, how?”

“That depends on what information you’re willing to trade…starting with why you’re really here.” I gasp, several onlookers peering at us until Harrison removes his hand from my hair and brushes it down onto my shoulder in an act of fake comfort. “Relax now…you’re drawing attention.”

“And you’re a fucking monster.” Venom lacing every word. “How you can do this…how you can cover up—” I cut myself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

He smiles, slow and indulgent, as if I’ve just proven a point he was already certain of. “Careful,” he murmurs, fingers tightening on my shoulder just enough to remind me who has control. “That kind of language is unbecoming. Especially for someone whose fate is still…flexible.”

I try to force my breathing to steady, knowing that if I panic it’ll kill me faster than anyone and anything in this room.

“You want information?” I say quietly. “Then stop treating me like a spectacle.” His brows lift in amusement. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

I know that my next statement is just as likely to end up with me dead as it is to convince him to keep me alive. “You’re worried about what I know, and you wouldn’t threaten me like this unless you’re worriedabout what others might know, too. Therefore, I’m valuable to you.”

That did it. His smile faltered—just a fraction of a second, but I saw it.

He chuckles and it causes me to tense as another round of applause goes up around us. “Bold,” he says. “Stupid, but bold.”

I have no idea if what I say next will land the way I intend it to, but it has to be worth a try given who he was to Dylan’s uncle.

“I know about Dylan.”

Something flickers across his face then—not recognition, but annoyance. “Your friend,” he says flatly. “Yes, I’m aware of the situation involving her uncle. Tragic business. Sloppy man. Sloppier ending.”

That was all the confirmation that I needed. To have it told second-hand that he took over forThe Wraith,is vastly different than hearing it from the man himself. Now if only I could get him to admit what he did to my brother. “So you did take over,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Someone had to clean up the mess and continue leading our growing empire into greatness.”

Rage blooms then, hot and reckless, but I’m vastly outnumbered and know I wouldn’t land a second hit without earning a bullet, or twelve, so I force it down. Anger is what he wants and I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Mess…You say that as though he was successful.”

His hands tighten again on my shoulder and I know I have him. “Oh, you didn’t know? Dylan survived. I’m sure you thought her batshit uncle was only caught because he was ‘sloppy’ as you put it. But she was the very one that ended his life. She was the one who rained hellfire on his ass.”

I watch his face closely as people start to mingle, when a thoughtful look crosses his face. “Hmph. That’s unfortunate.”Unfortunate. The word nearly breaks me. He doesn’t even care whatthey do to peoples’ lives. “But I suppose that’s what happens when one makes sentimental errors.”

He studies me again, beginning to lead me toward a door at the side of the room. “You’re angry on her behalf. But grief alone doesn’t turn someone into an infiltrator. You didn’t come here because of her. You came because you really believe you can stop this.” A beat passes between us. Two as he leads me out the door and into the hallway where we’re alone. “You think survival makes her a symbol, proof that this world can be outrun. But it can’t.”

I snap at him then, ripping myself out of his grip. “It does when people fight back.” He observes me quietly for a moment, and I hear the approach of footsteps behind

Me.

“You know what Dylan’s mistake was? She survived loudly. Drew attention…And do you know what that does? It breeds consequences.”

Fear lances through me then, as the footsteps get closer. But the fear is not for Dylan. It’s for me. “You. You are trying to survive quietly. That makes you far more dangerous.”

He nods then, and I feel hands grip my biceps. “Take her downstairs. I want a full accounting of who helped her get in and who’s waiting for her to come back out, and why.”

I dig my heels in as his guards start to drag me backward. “You won’t touch her. Dylan is done with this world. You don’t get to rewrite her story.”

He approaches me then, holding a hand up to stop his guards’ movement. “Oh, Thea,” he murmurs. “I don’t care about her anymore. I care about you. Because you walked into a system that already learned from its mistakes.”

Waving a hand, he turns away and his guards start to pull me away again, but I let my anger rise above my fear. I’m done being dismissed. Being underestimated. Being used. “I noticed how fast you filled his seat, you know. Almost like you were waiting for it to open.” That causes him to pause. I didn’t know that, not until I wasroped into this operation, but that’s not information he needs to know.

“Opportunity favors the prepared.”

“You ever wonder why someone so careful suddenly managed to get himself killed?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Arrogance, most likely. It’s always arrogance.”