I felt it then—the first real breath I’d taken since I’d seen that image of Dante unconscious in the back of a vehicle. Not relief exactly, but the cold clarity of a plan taking shape.
“He wants me cooperative,” I said slowly. “Wants me to believe that compliance is the only way to keep Dante safe. So I comply. I walk in there alone, like his message demanded. I tell him I’ll do what he wants, that I’ll try the transmutation. He’ll need time to set it up, to position me in whatever industrial facility Doryu found, to feel like he’s in control of the situation.” I looked around the room. “And that gives you time to find Dante and get him out.”
“It’s a distraction,” Taz said.
“A very convincing one, because he already believes it’s possible. I don’t have to sell him on the concept—his father already did that thirty years ago. I just have to sell him on my willingness.” I stood up, feeling the particular focus that came when a plan crystallized into something actionable.
Max was pacing, which he did when he was thinking. “So you go in, you stall, we extract Dante.” He stopped pacing. “What happens when you can’t actually turn lead into dragonsteel or whatever and Clark figures out he’s been played?”
“Then I stop pretending to be cooperative,” I said simply.
The room absorbed that.
“Right,” Max said. “So the backup plan is you going full dragon in an industrial warehouse.”
“I’d prefer not to. But I’ll do what I have to. Once Dante is secured, there’s nothing he can do. It’s the only leverage he has.”
“And I’ve made sure his family is safe,” Ignatius murmured.
Cole nodded once, the kind of decisive nod that meant he’d already committed to whatever came next. “Then let’s get ready for Chicago.”
Chapter twenty
Backcheck – Rushing back to defend after losing possession.
Dante
I woke up with my head pounding and my mouth tasting like I’d licked the inside of a gym bag. For a few disoriented seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten there. Then it all came rushing back—the truck, the driver, the sharp prick in my neck.
Fuck.
I tried to move and immediately regretted it. My wrists were tied to the arms of a chair, the rope tight enough that my fingers were starting to tingle. My ankles were similarly bound. The room around me was dim—some kind of warehouse or industrial space, with high ceilings and the particular echo that came from mostly empty buildings.
“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent.”
I turned my head way too fast, which made the world spin, and saw Odin stepping out of the shadows. He looked different than he had at dinner. The friendly warmth was completely gone, replaced by something cold and calculating that made my skin crawl.
“What the hell is this?” My voice came out rough, my throat dry.
“This is leverage.” He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me, close enough that I could see satisfaction in his expression. “You see, Dante, I need something from your coach. And the fastest way to get his cooperation is through you.”
My stomach dropped. “Theron doesn’t—we’re not—”
“Please.” Odin’s smile was patronizing. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he watches you on the ice, the way he positioned himself between us, the protective fury in his eyes when I had my hands on you. He cares about you deeply. Which makes you very valuable to me.”
I knew I had to downplay it if I could. “You’re wrong. He’s my coach. That’s all.”
Odin leaned forward slightly. “Did he tell you what he is?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. “What?”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Something flickered across Odin’s face—satisfaction mixed with something that looked almost like resentment. “Your coach is keeping secrets from you, Dante. Big ones. The kind that explain why he threw me across your apartment like I weighed nothing. Why his eyes glow copperwhen he’s angry. Why someone like me would go to all this trouble to get leverage over a hockey coach.”
My heart was hammering against my ribs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” He stood up, pacing in front of me. “You’ve noticed things. I can see it in your face. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”
I had. Of course I had. But I’d promised to wait, to trust him until he was ready to explain.
