Page 45 of Undertow

The shoe that lands in my ribs is shinier and more expensive than usual, but the impact is the same. I grit my teeth through the agony. I willnotshow pain.

I clutch my throbbing side and force my gaze up. My vision is still distorted through my left eye, but I’m able to make out a small round device in McArthur’s outstretched hand.

“Because it looks like a bug.” His matter-of-fact tone chills me more than his anger.

“I don’t know what that is. I swear, it’s not—” Another hard strike to the face.

“Fuck,”I mumble through the fresh burst of pain. I push myself to my elbows, trying to clear my head. Why to the face all the time? When are these idiots going to learn you can’t keep secrets on the face? These people are amateurs.

I reach up and touch the blooming pucker of blood on my lip. That one hurt.

I fire a glare at them.

“Wait,” Merrick says, stiffening. “That’s one of ours.”

“What?” McArthur asks.

Merrick motions for the device, and McArthur hands it over. Merrick studies it, then me. I must be a fun memory for him right now, nearly naked and bleeding on the floor. It’s been a while since we’ve played this game.

His expression darkens when it lands abruptly on Patrick. “This device is one of ours, sir. It couldn’t be from the Hartfords. Shaw is telling the truth.”

“You can’t be serious.” There’s disappointment in Patrick’s voice, like he can’t believe I don’t have a bullet in my head right now. He releases a dry laugh, but we all hear the fear in it. He backs up when he sees they are, in fact, very serious.

“I… So what if it’s the same? You don’t think they could be using similar technology?”

I will myself to my feet and lean against the wall to catch my breath.

“Not unless they have an engineer named Dominic Santino working for them,” Merrick says. “This is a custom piece. Shaw didn’t get this from the Hartfords. He’s either using it against them or someone planted it on him, like he said.”

We all know I’m not using it for the job. I never use that shit. For. This. Reason. You can’t bluff your way out of physical evidence.

Patrick opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out as McArthur turns his quiet rage on him.

“Why would I plant something on him?” Patrick rushes out, panic corrupting his tone.

“Because your woman wants to fuck him,” Merrick says dryly. “Probably already has.”

“That’s ridiculous! I don’t even…” He stops blubbering at Merrick’s warning look.

In the silence, McArthur scans me slowly, meticulously. I feel completely naked as he studies every tattoo, every muscle, every detail of my body. My fist tightens behind me, but none of the emotion reaches my face. Once I’ve been entirely exposed by his stare, he shifts his attention to his daughter.

Time stops as he considers. Blood pounds in my head, still reeling from the smack of the gun. The rest of my body is on fire as well, but pain means nothing right now. Only one thing matters, and all we can do is wait for it.

I let my gaze wander to Scarlett, and to my surprise, her return look isn’t nervous at all. If anything she’s even more smug than she was before.

Wait…

I snap my focus to Patrick just in time for the crack of a gunshot. A spray of blood burns my skin as my adversary sinks to the floor in front of me.

Interesting that his eyes in death are as cold as they were in life.

“Clean this up,” McArthur says to me. “And then get back to work.”

THEN: GILDED PRISONS

They moved me again. No warning or explanation, just sent two henchmen to my room in the Aurora Lodge who told me to pack my stuff.

I don’t recognize either of the men with me now. The only soldier I’ve ever seen more than once is Merrick, who must be McArthur’s right-hand man and the head of the henchmen army. The rest of them are interchangeable and don’t offer names, so all I can do is give them labels. I know from the way they treat me I’ve been branded “property,” so “henchmen” seems fair. Since the escape attempt, these wraiths have become a permanent presence in my life. I’m not even allowed to take a piss without them.

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