Page 83 of Vows of Ruin

Everything after that is noise and motion. Torque and Wrecker stop right behind me, and the other employees freeze, eyes wide. Torque swallows and says, loud enough for everyone to hear and small enough to keep order. “You can all leave.”

Wrecker adds, voice steady. “If you want to keep working here, you saw nothing. This was an ordinary staff meeting.” A dozen heads nod like marionettes, footsteps retreating, most exit the clearing with a mechanical hum.

Tiffany is fighting under me, despite being in a smaller package. She claws, elbows, spits words like venom. I don’t slow down. I don’t let her breathe. She’s throwing punches, claws at my face, and then she grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks hard.

I laugh. The sound is ugly and thrilled and something like relief. “Do that again,” I rasp. “I like it rough.”

Wrecker huffs out a laugh in amusement. He clamps on Tiffany’s arms while Torque leverages my weight and lifts me clear. I don’t resist much, I like how she looks when she’s scared.

Torque still has his hands under my arms when I look down at Tiffany. Her mascara’s smeared, lip split, hair tangled from the scuffle. I want to feel satisfied; I don’t. All I feel is the pulse in my neck, a low, steady drum of fury.

“Put me down,” I tell Torque.

He hesitates a second, then sets me back on my feet. Wrecker keeps his grip on Tiffany’s wrists. She tries to twist away, and he squeezes just enough to stop her.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask. My voice sounds too calm in my own ears.

Tiffany’s chin lifts a fraction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wrong answer.”

I take a step closer, enough for her to see that I’m done playing. The lights from the bar throw a red haze across the floor. Somewhere behind me, glass crunches under a boot. No music now, no crowd, just breathing and the hum of the lights.

“You stole Lena’s access card,” I say. “You got into the system. You sent information that nearly got us killed. So, I’ll ask again—why?”

She shakes her head fast, hair clinging to her face. “I didn’t, I swear. I don’t even know how to do any of that tech crap.”

I laugh once, sharp. “You don’t need to. You just need to hand it to someone who does.”

Her eyes dart between Torque and Wrecker, looking for help she won’t get.

I crouch so we’re eye-level. “How do you know Sebastian?”

That gets her. She freezes, pupils wide, a flicker of recognition she can’t hide.

“I don’t,” She whispers.

“Try again.”

“I told you, I don’t know him!”

I straighten, fold my arms. “Fine.” I turn to Wrecker. “She doesn’t want to talk here.”

He nods once, the motion slow and deliberate. “Basement?”

“Basement,” I confirm.

Tiffany’s breath hitches. “Wait—what basement? Wrenley, please—”

Wrecker hauls her upright, ignoring the way she digs her heels against the floor. Torque falls in beside them, silent and solid as a wall.

I follow them halfway across the dance floor before stopping, calling over my shoulder. “The rest of the staff can leave. Riot lock the doors behind them.”

The few stragglers who hadn’t fled scatter fast. The heavy door leading down to the basement swings open, and the sound that comes out of it is a low, metallic groan.

Tiffany stumbles once, caught between Wrecker’s hands, still pleading. “Wrenley, please, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know he’d—”

I step closer to her, grab her chin, and force her to meet my eyes. “Then start figuring out what you did mean. Because down there, you’re out of excuses.”