Page 83 of Reign

Chase raises her mug in a dry salute and pushes off the couch.

I stand with him. “You said it yourself. Confronting her doesn’t work. And Sabine plans for betrayal too much to ever take her by surprise. But creating uncertainty? Having the future Noble society turn against her and demand she abdicate? That’s something. They know about the trafficking now, the prostitution and grooming of little girls—that besmirches every single value even Thorne Briar originally created.”

I follow Chase down the stairs, ruminating on my words and well aware I’ve started to ramble. I’m too nervous about Emma and Eden to sit and wait for them to arrive. “Sabine’s one true fear is losing control of the Virtues. Each drop of uncertainty counts.”

“We’ve planted seeds of doubt,” Chase says, and I stare at a spot between his coiled shoulder blades as we descend. “But there might not be enough time to let it fester.”

We reach the bottom, and Chase spins and takes me by surprise when I’m enveloped in a crushing embrace. “I don’t know if what we did will keep you safe.”

“Sabine wouldn’t touch me. Not with the email, and now the Nobles. The old men in that brotherhood have a lot to answer for, too.”

“You’re staying at the lake house until I’m sure Sabine will stand down.”

I lift my head. “Don’t you think that’s overkill? Sabine hasn’t touched me since … since Ivy. She’s even made me a Virtue.”

He sighs, then kisses my forehead. “It makes me all the more suspicious. I hate that you have to suffer.”

I squeeze his waist. “You and your sister have been suffering under her rule long before I came along.”

Chase turns his head to stare down the long, dark hallway. Curious, I follow his gaze. “What’s down there?”

“Nothing important,” he murmurs, then takes my hand. “Come on.”

We step into Daniel Stone’s office, that eerie, blue aquarium light traveling over my skin the further he draws me in. Bottles rattle as Chase sorts through the bar cart, but I can’t take my eyes off those white, lethal specks traveling silently through ultra-violet water.

“Got it.” An amber bottle catches the preternatural shine as he holds it up. He turns, saying, “Father’s best Macallan.”

I tear my gaze off the floating creatures in time to see Chase’s eyes sharpen. He shoots forward. “Callie—!”

Rough, thick fabric covers my head. Air goes stagnant in my mouth before I can scream.

28

Callie

Blinded, I can only feel it when arms wrap around me, so tight it’s like being squeezed by a python. I gasp, but only manage to suck in cloth.

I choke on Chase’s name.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Chase roars.

Ethereal, purple light flickers through the bag—no, it’s soft and thick like a cloak—thrown over my head. Daniel Stone’s office barely gave me enough light when I had 20/20 vision. Now, I’m certifiably blind.

But I can struggle.

I throw a leg back, aiming for a crotch, but my captor pitches me to the side, and I slam into the wall with a thump of impact.

“You motherfucker!” Chase yells. A rip of fabric follows. The smack of a fist on skin. A yelp of pain. “You want to take her? I dare you.”

“Follow the rules, you asshole!”

James?

My vision’s scattered, but my hearing’s on point when I push to a sit, my hands immediately going to the cloak wrapped around my face.

A cold, boney vise stops me.

I work up to a scream—

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