Page 6 of Retrograde

Corrado and I exchange an uncomfortable look.

“Well, what the fuck would you expect me to do?” I throw my arms wide to focus Aron’s attention on my body, hoping that will help me drive the point home—I’m five-foot-two and around one hundred and ten pounds. “I’ve been doing the only thing I can do. I’ve been doing what I can do best.”

“Hmmm,” he grumbles ominously. “Tell me, if I have my tech guy search that laptop of yours, will he find any evidence to support what you’re saying?”

Corrado and I exchange another look—a despairing one—before Corrado responds, rambling, “Well ... no. No, but ... but you see, that’s by design. We had to make it so that there would be no evidence. That’s the whole point.”

Aron licks his plump lower lip like a predator before devouring his prey, completely deaf to the pleading note in Corrado’s voice. “How very convenient.”

I can tell from the way his chin wobbles that Corrado isn’t far from tears. And I’m sensing that much as he would like to see me cry, male tears would only provoke the Necromancer and do us no favours.

“For the most part, yes, very,” I tell Aron. “But right now it’s really fucking inconvenient.”

Unsurprisingly, he laughs again, and right on cue, his men do too.

“Riley, Riley, Riley ...” With his fingertips, he traces my cheek, still so tender from his blows that even the gentle contact stings. “You really are something.” He lays his hand on my shoulder, the palm enveloping it whole. “Right. You two.” He nods his head to his men. “Take the crybaby away. I’d like some private time with Miss Hotshot now.”

Smirking with sadistic relish, the two men holding Corrado exchange a look. So do we, our mouths gaping mutely and eyes bulging. Dread coils in my belly. My pulse is galloping through my ears, muting all other sound.

That one moment seems to stretch forever. It’s like I’m watching it from a distance and replaying it in slow motion in my mind. I watch them drag my closest friend—my only friend—away, kicking and screaming, knowing this may be the last time we ever see each other. I snap out of my stupor when he reaches for me.

“Wolfie! WOLFIE!”

“Corrado!”

His hands. I need to hold his hands one last time. I need to thank him. I need to say I’m sorry for everything. I need him to know. I can’t let him leave like this.

I make to lunge forward, but something hard crushes my breasts and an iron grip around my chest holds me in place, my side pressed tight against Aron’s firm body.

“Corrado!” I cry out, and I struggle, but it’s no use.

“Easy, Hotshot, easy.” An amused voice sounds above me.

That bastard.

Impotent fury swells inside of me like a volcanic eruption, rushing to the surface.

I could forgive his mistrust and his hatred. Given what he knows about us and what he doesn’t, it is not unreasonable for him to assume we’re enemies. But not to give us the benefit of the doubt after what we have told him? To deny us any small mercy, to revel in his cruelty the way he clearly does?

Not that I’m surprised. He’s what I expected, what I feared he would be.

Only monsters thrive in this cesspool of a world.

2

RILEY

Corrado’s yells grow more distant and then disappear with the clank of a door.

That leaves me alone in a cage with the Necromancer. As soon as that realisation fully sinks in, my ribs solidify in place. My lungs won’t expand, not even by a fraction.

I can’t breathe.

Aron releases his hold on me. I should run. I should at least try. Even if there is nowhere to run to.

But I can’t.

I’m suffocating. My vision is clouding. There’s drumming in my ears.