Page 72 of Whispers of the Dead

“You don’t need one.”

Rage bubbles in my chest, and I spin around to face him. “The fuck I don’t. The only way I’m using this bathroom is if I’m unconscious.”

“That can be arranged.”

I don’t think. Don’t react. I slam my elbow into his ribs and jerk away. He reaches out and grabs me again, this time his grip bruising. “Let me go.”

“Don’t you get it? The more you resist, the more I’m going to tighten the leash and break you. You choose how this is going to go.”

Before I can throw another jab, the door to the bedroom flies open, and a small blur of blue-gray barrels through. A low, warning growl fills the air.

Eugene jerks his head around as Lola appears by his feet, her teeth bared, a sound rumbling from deep in her throat.

Eugene’s face twists in fury. “What the…you’re my dog. You betray me too? Get this filthy mutt out of here.”

Before I realize what he’s about the do, his foot swings back and I throw myself between them, with my arms outstretched. Lola pressing against my leg, her little body vibrating with her fierce growl.

Eugene pauses. I meet his gaze head-on. “Don’t touch her.”

His face shifts, then he laughs in a low, mocking sound. “Always trying to save others when you can never even save yourself.”

I grit my teeth, but I don’t move, and Lola doesn’t stop growling. Her medium-sized but fierce body presses against me, ready to defend.

Eugene’s smirk lingers, even when he tilts his head, considering me. “You’ve got a bad habit of picking lost causes, little lamb. Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to those three locked up downstairs.” He takes a step back, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. “This is why you need me. You throw yourself in front of danger, but you never think about what happens next.”

I don’t move, and I’m not going to until he leaves this room.

His gaze flicks to the closet again, and a new kind of cruel amusement enters his eyes. “Speaking of what happens next, pick something to wear.”

I still don’t move.

His smile vanishes. “Either you do it, or I dress you myself, and I don’t think you want that. At least, not yet.”

My fingers curl into fists and I lower my arms. “Only if you leave the room.”

For a moment, he looks as though he wants to argue. Then he says, “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

“What type of clothing should I wear?”

29

AVERY

The dim light flickers in the makeshift meeting room, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked walls. The five men standing before me shift on their feet, their eyes darting between one another, but none of them dare to meet my gaze.

Good.

They already know this isn’t a conversation. They’re here to listen. Or to die, whichever. It’s their choice.

I lean back against the table and cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s not waste time, shall we? I’ve got better places to be than sitting here and babysitting a bunch of indecisive idiots.” I let my gaze drift over each of them. “Eugene’s turned this place into a circus, minus the fun. It’s a mess, and you all know it. You’ve seen it, you’ve felt it.”

A few of them nod.

“You think he’s protecting you? Keeping you safe?” I let out a humorless chuckle. “He’s not. He’s using you. Your loyalty, your strength, all of it. You’re not soldiers in his war. You’re his weapons. The one he’ll use, then throw away when they break. He promises power and security, but only delivers fear, chaos, and death.”

One of them, a wiry guy with platinum blond hair who some of the guys call Casper, clears his throat. “What makes you any different?”

I stare him down until he flinches. That doesn’t take long. “I only make promises I intend to keep. For example, if I promise to kill you, then I will. At least that’s something you can count on. Do you really think Eugene will follow through and give up an ounce of his power to give to you?”

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