Page 39 of Beg the Night

Director looped her cold, boney arm through mine and pulled me from the sisters.

I fought the urge to look back. To strain to listen to what they were saying. If I did, that would mean I cared, and I certainly did not.

I cared about nothing. Especially not that girl.

“I couldn’t help but notice your small show of shadows, Three.” Her voice was polite, casual even, as we veered through the crowd and toward the other edge of the clearing.

“It was nothing.”

With a tsk, she shook her head in a way that made me want to rip it off. “You know the rules. No powers, for the sake of your sister.” She lifted her chin and zeroed in on something in the distance. I followed her gaze, instantly recognizing Mags. She looked ridiculous in that pink dress, laughing with her head tossed back and glowing as if we were really here to enjoy the party.

Of course I knew the rules. It would be impossible to scrape the insides of my mind free of the memory of those men putting their blades on Mags’s skin. Of her screams ripping through the dungeon until I thought my ears would bleed.

That was the aftermath of my first and only attempt at escaping. The Ministry did not make idle threats, not whenit came to powers. Not when it came to keeping the mystics contained.

My chest tightened. She was my one weakness, the one fucking string Director could pull. I would give my life for Mags. There was nothing I wouldn’t do if it meant keeping her safe. And now that we were both here, now that Director could clearly see how willing I was to protect her, I was fucked.

“I’d be willing to overlook your breaking of the rules, of course.” She brushed a hand down my arm.

I swallowed a gag. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

Brow furrowed, she sighed. “So angry. So defensive. Your claimed may not like that, you know. Has she agreed to mate with you yet? You are aware that both parties must be willing, aren’t you?”

A surge of anger rushed through me. “I am very aware, yes.”

“And yet, it looks as if she’s not on board with your plan.”

“She’ll get on board.”

“Yes.” Director eyed me carefully.

Since the day her disgrace of a fucking army found Mags and me, I’d been dreaming up all the ways I might eventually kill her.

She underestimated Mags. Thought so little of her. Saw her as nothing.

But me? She looked at me like I was her ticket out of this fucking war.

I’d yet to figure out why. Surely she had dozens if not hundreds of threes fighting in the war. There were probably several here tonight, all waiting for orders from their beloved Director.

I hated her. I hated everything she stood for. She wasn’t a mystic herself, I’d never sensed even the tiniest amount of power coming from her morbid skin, yet she walked around here like she was the most powerful person in the world.

If it weren’t for Mags, she would be dead already.

But Director knew that.

“She will get on board. And if you fail at convincing her, I’ll have backup measures in place.”

My gut twisted painfully at the malice in her tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She smiled, possibly the ugliest sight I’d seen all day, and I lived in a shithole with way too many disgusting men. “You’ll find out soon.”

With a wink that sent a disgusted chill down my spine, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

I checked on Mags again, making sure she was still laughing and having the time of her life with whoever the fuck she was talking to, before searching for New Girl again.

She was still talking to her sister, her shoulders drawn back, her chin lifted—she had to be a good four inches shorter than the dark-haired woman she was glaring at—and her brown eyes were fierce. Dark. Angry.

Her sister’s posture was much more poised. She kept her anger mostly hidden behind a feigned smile. Though now that I’d seen a hint of it, it was easy to make out the flush of red on her pale cheeks and the spark of fury in her eyes. She was equally as angry at New Girl, even if she didn’t show it.

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