Page 21 of Dark Surrender

“Goddammit, Penelope, give me a minute.”

“Fine!”

I smirk. I really shouldn’t, but I hate that woman at a cellular level. She is everything I despise in this world. Not because she’s beautiful and I’m not. No. This has nothing to do with looks and everything to do with her. She’s a spoiled, stuck-up bitch who hurts others for money. I probably wouldn’t care if those she hurt were rich pieces of shit like her and her father, but that’s not the case. She sits high on the throne her father built her, and instead of using her money and influence to help those less fortunate, which, let’s face it, is almost everyone, she kills them instead, and laughs while doing it. It brings her pleasure, and she’s gonna die for it.

Legs out straight, back against the wall, Maxim’s jaw ticks for a beat, then two, before he finally addresses me. “You drugged us, didn’t you?”

Bingo.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I sigh at his boring line of questioning. “Oh. Max. You know why.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Don’t play stupid. We know you’re not. You, your wife, her father, and all of his associates buy, sell, and trade humans.”

“They don’t…”

I hold up my hand to shut down his lies. “We’re not doing this. If you’re not selling people, you’re selling parts of them. Organs. Right? That’s what you specialize in, isn’t it, Maxim?”

I wait for a response.

One second, then two passes, and his breath quickens. He balls his hands into fists on his tattoo-covered thighs. Over and over again, he squeezes and releases them. The muscles in his neck tighten, and he looks like he wants to end me.

I count to sixty in my head before speaking again. “These are the consequences for your actions.” With the flick of my wrist, I gesture to this place and his current condition. The unspoken finale hangs heavy in the air between us.

“Death,” Maxim finally says.

“Yes.”

Resting his head against the wall, Maxim tips his chin up in a clear show of brass-balled arrogance. “Are you gonna do it?” he goads, a smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

A wrinkle appears between his brows, as if my reply has caught him off guard. “Your team?”

Shaking my head, I snort without humor. “There is no team.”

“Then how did you get all of us…” He waves his hand around. “Here.”

“I have my ways.” I smirk just to get under his beautiful skin.

“You’ve been with Harold for months,” Maxim states, for his benefit or mine, I’m not sure.

“Oh. I know. That was part of the plan.” I had to endure that prick for months. The groping. The murders. Kissing. He’s one of those men who have spent so many years doing whatever he wants, with no consequences for his heinous crimes, that he believes he’s untouchable. I’m here to show him just how fucking wrong he is.

“Fuckin’, Christ.” Maxim’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of red as he draws his knees closer to his chest and looks away, lost in thought.

I leave him to it.

He’s gotta come to terms with his mortality one way or another.

I’m sure he’ll beg for mercy or offer us money. They always do. Not that we give our marks that much time to talk. But it happens every now and again, and they almost always promise to do better.

Right.