Page 146 of Deadfall

Griffin let out a growl. “What the fuck is this, Angel?”

“I’ll explain everything shortly,” Angel said. “For now, just know you both are safe—”

“Then why am I handcuffed?” Griffin snapped.

“That’s for my safety,” Angel chuckled. “Emersyn, if you’ll come with me? Someone wishes to speak with you.”

“Who?” Griffin barked.

I climbed to my feet but didn’t make a move toward the door. I looked Angel over suspiciously.

“Who are you really?” I asked. “And don’t feed me that ‘I’m your friend’ bullshit.”

Angel smiled. “I do go by Angel in some circles, and you are more than welcome to continue calling me that, but my real name is Dante.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” I asked.

I looked over at Griffin, but he continued to glower at Angel, and it didn’t look like that name meant anything to him either.

“No. I should hope not,” Angel chuckled like there was some inside joke I wasn’t aware of. He extended his hand again.

“Come, come, I promise no harm will come to you,” Angel said. “Either of you.”

I decided I was probably only going to succeed in finding answers if I left this room, so with one last look at Griffin, I followed Angel—Dante—whatever his name was, out of the cell. He escorted me into a nearby room that was completely opposite from the concrete room I was just in. It was lit comfortably by a roaring fire and wall sconces, with lavish rugs and comfortable leather seating throughout. Angel half-bowed to the figure in front of the fire, before he walked back out and shut the door carefully behind him.

The man was tall and dressed immaculately in a tailored suit. He stood in profile to me as he swirled a glass of whiskey in one hand while the other was casually placed in his pocket. He turned fully and I froze.

“Good evening, my dear.”

“Albatron.”

“Ah, so you remember me?”

Albatron’s voice was smooth, cultured and refined with the barest trace of a foreign accent. His attention swept me from head-to-toe, but it felt almost clinical. Since I still had on the oversized clothes from the island that were torn and dirty, I was dead certain there was nothing for him to leer at.

“How could I forget?” I said scornfully.

Albatron’s gaze didn’t leave my face as he beckoned me closer with a twist of his drink. I took a few steps forward, but had to stop when everything in my body froze and I was transported roughly back to that night in the clearing. I realized I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t take another step—

“Are you afraid of me?” He sounded amused.

I locked eyes with him and scowled, irritated with my own hesitation. “No.”

Albatron didn’t look like he believed me. He stepped closer, and my fists clenched at my sides at his proximity, and every cell in my body fired off a warning. This was the man who continually made an appearance in my nightmares.

“I hear you’ve been searching for me and my brothers,” he said. “And I assume it isn’t because you want to have a conversation.”

I shook my head and he nodded. “To kill me then?”

When I didn’t answer, he smiled thinly. “I expected as much. How would you do it?”

My brow furrowed. “What?”

“How would you kill me? I can assure you the tactic you took with my brother would not work.”

My jaw tightened at his underlying tone of amusement. “I would prefer to stab you,” I admitted.

“You enjoy the intimacy.” He nodded. “Just like your father.”