Page 2 of Empress of Ruin
Without her, the world is grey again, and I can’t fucking stand it. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“Your head is still attached to your shoulders for a very specific purpose.” I examine Locke with cold disinterest. He’s the best on my team at every task I give him. Best at tracking, best at torturing, best at killing, best at protecting. And yet, he failed in the task of keeping Lyra stationary for a single night—and I haven’t seen her in the nearly half a year since.
“I know.” Locke shows no outward reaction at my words, but then, he’s been anticipating the moment I kill him since the night Lyra escaped. Since I sat in the pool of her blood and grieved.
“And where are you in achieving the objective that’s kept you alive?” I question, cocking my head to the side.
My fingers tap a rapid staccato rhythm against my desk. The desk that I had Lyra bent over more than once, in several delightful encounters. When I’m alone, I can still hear her erotic moans and whimpers echoing through the space.
I can still see the way she flushes. Recall the way her blush would travel from her cheeks to the rest of her face, down her neck, eventually staining her perky breasts.
Most invigorating was the way she fought me at every turn. Every reasonable conversation turned into an argument. Every encounter was a fight. Every moment spent with her was colorful.
“Somewhere south of fuckall,” Locke says bluntly. “Trail’s gone cold. I have not had a single lead in over a month. She’s careful.”
“She’s very smart,” I murmur absently. “And has an investigative background in journalism. If she’s half-decent at protecting sources, she knows how to maintain anonymity.”
“So,” Locke says. “If you plan on killing me over my failure to find her, now’s the time. I can’t find her. I’ve tried, gotten close, and failed.”
Something abrupt twists my stomach into knots and tightens my chest. The back of my neck prickles.I must be getting sick. I should probably see a doctor about that, when I find the time.
I consider Locke carefully. His value to me has historically extended far past this single mission he’s failed, but this mission also happens to be far more valuable to me than any other task I’ve assigned him.Ever. There is nothing more precious in this world than Lyra, therefore, there is nothing more important than getting her back.
If I kill him, I won’t find another man with his loyalty and abilities. If I don’t kill him, I’m failing to punish a member of my team who’s fucked up.
Aren’t you the one who’s fucked up from the start?
The little voice that likes to taunt me with harsh realities makes yet another appearance—it’s been annoyingly present since Lyra abandoned me. I bind that voice tight, shove it in a cage, lock it, and bury it. I don’t have time for such nonsensical thoughts.
Ultimately, Locke is more useful alive than he is dead.WhenI find Lyra—it has to be a when, not an if—I’ll need him.
I could take a finger or two from him, but I need him functional. Removing his body parts would ultimately be a disservice to me and me alone.
I can’t afford proverbially shooting myself in the foot.
“Fucking find her,” I hiss.
“I’ll do my best.” Locke stands and leaves before I can change my mind. If this little dance continues for much longer, I might give into my worst impulses and put a bullet in his skull.
The principal consideration is that he’d allow me to. He would not fight back; he’d accept his fate. How many people in my life can I say that about?
Only one.
My secretary enters just after Locke’s exit, clutching a stack of files, looking suitably afraid. I’ve never been the most pleasant boss, but my asshole tendencies have reached new heights the last few months.
“Quarterly reports,” he mumbles, setting them down on my desk. “Also, your 11 o’clock is here—”
“11 o’clock? Use my name.” Carter Black strolls in, giving my trembling secretary a disinterested once-over. “Or is insulting me on your to-do list today?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Get out.” Carter yawns.
I lean back in my chair, affecting an air of sheer boredom as my secretary scurries out. I still haven’t bothered to learn his name.
“You look like shit.” Carter drops into the armchair across from me and makes himself at home. He goes as far as to set his feet on my desk.
“Are you looking to lose body parts today?” I query pleasantly.
