Page 51 of Savage Kingdom

“Petal,” Gideon growled, a warning for me to keep quiet.

When I turned my head, my eyes met with the other guard who had been in the room at Sinestre. He was young, tall, pale, with gray eyes and chestnut hair. I’ll admit I didn’t see this coming.

“Hey, friends,” Gideon said. “I think there’s been a mistake.” He talked to the guy who had been in the room with us.

“Hayes,” someone called out to him. “Look at this.”

Other agents came at me, and they threw me on the ground, putting my hands behind my back.

I didn’t resist; I let them have their little moment. What I did do was crane my head to the side to see what the agents were talking about. They pointed to the bed that was smeared in blood.

Gideon ignored that part but gave them his Interpol ID. Just as I suspected, he was British intelligence.

His eyes met mine from across the room. The whiskey color that used to make me dizzy now burned. He waited, and wanted for me to start rattling some numbers, to prove my allegiance to a nation.

I bowed to no one.

I didn’t have a license to kill like him. I was born of a broken kingdom into the shadows of the new world, with the task of setting it right. I smirked at Agent Hayes as the other guard brought over the weapons we’d left in the bloody bedsheet.

“What can I say? We fucked like savages,” I smirked at the agent.

They took me away from Gideon. This wasn’t his domain; he had no say on what happened to me. It was okay because last night, when Gideon left me alone, I used the hotel’s phone to make two calls.

We took the elevator door down into the lobby. People looked, wondering what garnered a woman like me to be carried out at gunpoint. Quickly I scanned the place, and there he was across the hall. The broken prince—my protégée.

Safe house.

I mouthed the words at him, knowing he would leave this shithole and get himself to safety. There was no need for him to get involved. I wasn’t a damsel, and killers didn’t need a prince.

A blacked-out van was parked right at the entrance, and they loaded me into it.

“Isn’t anyone going to read me my Miranda rights?” I sassed.

Was I afraid? No, I wasn’t.

The ride was silent when we arrived at an undisclosed building. I feared things might not be what they seem.

They took me out, two agents on each side of me. It was now a waiting game to see what they wanted from me.

The roomthey took me into was bare, with nothing but dark tinted glass, a table, and a chair. As soon as we had walked in, they had my hands cuffed to the table.

They had yet to accuse me of what I was being tried with. Which meant they wanted something from me or they didn’t have enough evidence to hold me and were trying to see what I would say.

Two could play this game.

Hayes walked in, and it was clear that he was in charge of this mission, which struck me as odd since he was on the young side. He was handsome, detached—cold. He looked at me like I was scum.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I winked at him. I knew my charm wouldn’t serve as anything more than to piss him off. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I knew he was watching. I turned my head to the two-way mirror and stared.

“What’s your name?

“Usually, guys buy me drinks before they ask me that question, Hayes.” I let his surname roll off my tongue.

“I’m not playing games,” he spat.

“Neither am I.” I leaned back as much as the cuffs would let me and dropped my shoulders. The cuffs weren’t tight enough that if I wanted, I could dislocate my thumbs and slip out, but then that would be stupid. I would be stuck in a building full of agents.

“Why were you in the club?”

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