“I could hand you over to Page and the others,” Mowbray said, glancing at the captain as he strode into the room. “Let the lot amuse themselves with you.”
The head of the Guardians stood against the wall and looked at her as though she was a bit of meat stuck between his teeth.
“Try it,” Jessica snarled. “There are more ways to kill a man than with blade or bullet.”
“This viciousness would have served you better had you adhered to our original contract,” the baronet said. “But as you’ve been disappointingly compromised by that trio of animals—” he spat this last word “—you’ll have to serve some better purpose. Brody will come for you, and when he does, I’ll finish the job I started a decade ago.”
She swallowed hard. “You had his family slaughtered.”
“Animals don’t have families. They have packs. And I was performing an important duty by cutting down that vicious pack of creatures.”
“People, not creatures.”
Mowbray curled his lip. “They aren’t people. Transforming into beasts?—”
“They have hearts, can love?—”
Sir Harold waved this away. “Their lives are immaterial to the greater good. Creatures like that are a danger and a blight. England is a shining jewel of purity, which must be maintained. That is my task.”
“Have any of them harmed you?” Jessica demanded.
“I have never given any of those monsters the opportunity to do so,” the baronet answered. “Strike first, strike often. This has been the sacred responsibility of my family for generations.”
“Is this old work, what you and your family do?”
“It began before this house was built. I have taken on their work, as I vowed I would when the title and obligation of slaughtering the animals fell to me.”
“They haven’t given you reason to hate them, and they hurt no one else. What you do is murder.”
“Their very existence is an abomination!” Mowbray snapped. “They are not like you and me. They don’t belong in England. Which is why I ensure that the Guardians have all the funding they need to persist in their important task. Why, Page himself was the one who led the attack against Brody’s pack.”
“Bastard left me with this as he escaped.” Page drew a finger along the scar running down his face. “I’ll repay the favor by slitting his throat and putting his flayed hide on the wall.”
Jessica swallowed down her gorge as she dragged her attention back to Mowbray. “All of this, bringing me into your plot, it was all a scheme to draw out Ezra.”
“Ezra,” Mowbray mocked. “Here I went against my principles in hiring a woman, and you’ve gone and let your female sentiment cloud your judgment, proving I was right to have misgivings.” He peered at her closely. “Have you actually slept with that monster?”
His eyes were alight with repulsion and interest.
“I may have bedded him,” she said, “but you can go fuck yourself.”
Pain blinded her and her head whipped to the side as the back of Mowbray’s hand collided with her face.
“Foul bitch.” His face contorted and reddened with disgusted fury. “I’ll take pleasure in killing you.”
He marched to a box on a table and opened it. From the box, he pulled a thin but long dagger before stalking back to her. The blade bit into her throat.
She forced her breath to come in and out as slowly as possible. When men reached this state of hysteria, their movements were thoughtless, rash, and the only way to counter their enraged impetuousness was through scrupulous use of her own calm.
“Easy, Sir Harold,” Page said, from his place near the wall. “She’s most useful to us alive. For now.”
The baronet’s high color receded, leaving him his usual pale shade. He backed up, the dagger still in his hand.
Jessica permitted herself the quietest and most inconspicuous exhalation.
“True,” Mowbray said. “Brody and the others will come for her.”
“They’ll come,” she answered. “But not for me. They’ll have one purpose in coming here. And that’s to kill you.”
