Page 45 of Deadmen's Captive

"Look at me," Tristan insisted, leaning close to Nate’s face. "Focus on my voice."

I watched as Tristan's words cut through the chaos. He was the calm in our storm, always had been. Even when the darkness threatened to swallow us whole.

"Deep breaths. In... out..." Tristan demonstrated with a steady rise and fall of his chest.

Nate struggled, his breath hitching, but slowly the rhythm took hold. His shoulders loosened, the sharp lines of panic smoothing from his brow.

"Good, good," Tristan murmured. "You're here with us, safe."

Nate nodded.

I grabbed the decanter and poured him a large one. Nate's hand was trembling when I handed him the glass.

"Drink," I said, and he didn't hesitate.

"Paige? Is she ok?" I asked, seeing he was nearly back to himself.

Nate's eyes met mine and he shook his head slowly.

"Fuck.” Tristan had just sat down but his chair scraped the floor as he bolted up towards the door.

"Wait," Nate's voice cracked.

Tristan paused and I sat down in front of Nate, leaning forward.

"Talk to us, Nate."

"Paige..." Nate took a deep breath, his voice now nearly back to normal. "She didn't know, Bast. She said she never signed anything."

I stared at him, and the room stilled around me, like it was frozen in time for a moment.

"What?" I finally said, though it was more to make sure I'd heard him right.

"She had no idea what was going on tonight. She says she never signed anything, never applied to be Persephone." Nate swallowed and looked up at me, eyes usually as hard as steel now filled with doubt and shame. I had never seen him look like that. "Bast, she didn't consent."

"Never signed?" Tristan's voice shook slightly as he crouched next to Nate. "But that's... how could... Shit. That means we..." He looked up at me, eyes wide.

I shook my head, and walked over to the desk. I picked up the dossier we had on Paige Matthews and shoved it at Tristan. "It's bollocks. She's fucking with you, Nate. We've all read her application, all seen her signature at the bottom of the contract. We vetted her."

Nate shook his head. "No, she's not. She-"

"Paige is playing us," I cut him off. "I don't know why, or what she stands to gain from this, but she's certainly playing us. Well, you. My gut told me she was too smooth, too perfect, during the induction. It's all an act." I picked up my glass and tossed back another brandy, sorely tempted to refill it again.

Tristan shook his head. "But if she's not acting..."

"Then she's a damn good liar," I said, setting my glass down with a thud that echoed in the tense silence.

Nate glared at me, that familiar steel look back in his eyes that would have lesser men crumbling under his gaze. "Walk down that hall and into that bedroom. Look at her, Bast. She was utterly terrified."

"Terrified or not," I said, feeling the edge in my own voice. "She signed the contract. She wanted this. There's the application form and her signature."

Nate shook his head. "Something's not right here, Bast. I'm telling you, that girl has no idea what's going on and what we just did to her in front of everyone-"

"Look at it!" I demanded, stabbing my finger at the looped signature at the bottom of the page. "It's all there, every detail she filled out herself. Her clothes measurements, her fantasies—things only she would know. She's the only one who could have filled it out."

Tristan shook his head. "Nate's right, something's wrong here. Maybe she thought she was applying for a different type of position, or maybe she didn't understand what she was getting into..."

"Impossible." I stood, towering over them both. "The contract is very clear. We're meticulous. We don't make mistakes like that."

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