Page 77 of Empress of Ruin
I think back to the rumors I’ve heard whispered about the Nighthawks, and some archaic fucking new tradition of them kidnapping women to become virtual sex slaves. If I were a more decent person, I might give a shit about the number of actual and moral laws that breaks. As is, I only see leverage here.
Cain wants something to help someone he’s fixated on. To help awomanhe’s fixated on, I’ll bet. Perhaps whoever he chose?
Cain has a weakness. One he’s willing to risk exposing tome, which means he’s desperate.
“Who is she?” I ask. “Employee? Lover?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about—”
“Then I have no access to get you that drug you’re desperate enough to come begging for. And I have much better things to do with my time.” I plant a palm on Lyra’s thigh. “If you’re as goodat ingress and egress as you profess, I’m sure you can get your hands on it.”
“I don’t even knowwhere to look,” Cain hisses.
That’s because my labs are top-secret, and every dose of every experimental drug I manufacture is more monitored than weapons in the US military.
“Who is she?” I repeat.
His jaw ticks again. I lightly drag my fingers over Lyra’s thigh, hiding a smile when she shudders. Cain’s eyes track the gesture, and for a moment, I think they flash with something akin to longing.
So, there’s a woman he wants, who recently went through some high-level torture that included cruel drugs, which subsequently caused a psychotic break. He sure does know how to pick ‘em.
Then again, I’m not really in a position to judge. I chose a journalist who tried to take down my empire.
“Someone important to my organization.”
“Important to your organization or important to you?”
“The two are one and the same. When I’m unhappy, bodies drop. It’s in everyone’s interest to keep me happy.”
“You’re capable of happiness?” I ask with mock surprise.
“Fuck you,” Cain says heatedly. “I’ll make this simple. Give me what I want, and I’ll find out who tried to have you killed. Don’t, and I’ll kill the pretty girl seated on your lap. In front of you.Slowly. Then, I’ll lock you in a room and keep you alive long enough to watch her corpse decompose.”
Lyra gasps and tenses.
I keep my expression blank, but the very thought causes everything in me to twist into a knot. My hand inadvertently tightens on Lyra’s thigh. Cain smiles emptily. “Sorry, did I strike a nerve?”
“You’re not endearing me to help you,” I growl.
“I’m not asking. I’m giving you your options. I don’t require endearment; I require a fuckingfix.”
I kiss Lyra’s cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll be up soon.”
She gives me a frightened look. “Will you… be okay?”
Ilovethat she cares. “I’ll be fine. When I come into the bedroom, I expect you to be waiting for me naked. Preferably ready.” I give her thigh another squeeze, half warning, half promise. “Go.”
She stands on unsteady legs. I watch her go; Cain keeps his eyes on me. Whoever his object of fixation is, she must mean a lot. Only a fool wouldn’t watch Lyra walk away; she’s fucking stunning, and she’smine.
“What are her symptoms?” I ask Cain.
“Visual hallucinations, overstimulation, classic symptoms of PTSD,” he rattles off. “Fear, jumpiness—”
“How much of that can be attributed to you?” I would not put it past Cain to have caused the PTSD.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Were you the one to give her the drugs that caused these symptoms?”
