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I fall back into my seat, tears welling in my eyes, hating how fucking weak I feel. Now on top of that, I’m painfully aware of just how hungry I am, though something tells me I’ll be waiting until I get back to my prison before being able to eat.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Faders Bay. There’s not a person in sight, but I’m not foolish enough to assume there aren’t people hiding in the shadows.
Zade steps out of the Escalade before coming to my door and opening it. He grips my arm and pulls me to my feet as the boys discreetly get out of the car and slip into the darkness, fading from sight, not a single one of them bothering with a glance in my direction.
Zade turns me and pulls my wrists behind my back, quickly binding them with thick rope. “In that warehouse, you’re my prisoner, and you’ll fucking act like it. Don’t speak, don’t look at anyone, just exist. Is that clear?”
I swallow hard and nod, not sure what kind of hostile environment he’s about to drag me into, but judging by the way his eyes bounce around the darkness, I’d dare say he’s not comfortable bringing me here. After all, one stray bullet could end it all.
With Zade gently pushing me along, we walk through the parking lot, and I let the numbness claim me, accepting what will be.
We make our way through the opening of the old, dirty warehouse, and I nervously glance around as we enter. I don’t see a single person in here, but I feel their stares, and my skin prickles with goosebumps.
“Zade,” I whisper, wishing he would step closer, needing the security he can offer. I feel too vulnerable, too open, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Just keep walking,” he murmurs, his tone so low that I have to strain to hear it, his hand shifting to my wrist as his thumb gently moves back and forth to keep me calm.
He pushes me along, deeper into the warehouse, and one by one, they step out from the darkness, at least twenty of them. Men from all walks of life stare back at me. Old, young, scrawny, and jacked up. Some look like they could be international arms dealers, while others look like acne-riddled computer hackers that live in their mom’s basement.
Zade stops, pulling back on my wrist to keep me from taking another step.
“Bold move bringing her here, Zade DeVil,” an older man in a designer suit says, making a show of removing his jacket as if to prepare for some kind of showdown. He glances around, his gaze scanning the room before pointedly searching outside the door we just came through. “And without your boys at that.”
Zade simply scoffs, not a word spoken, and yet his confidence comes out loud and proud. They don’t need to know that the boys are outside this very warehouse, taking out the backup that each of these assholes probably brought along. Besides, I’ve seen just how lethal Zade is. He doesn’t need his boys to be able to run this show. He could take out every man in this room with barely a flick of his wrist.
“One of you has information I need,” he says, his gaze shifting around the room, taking in the men before him. While he hasn’t specifically introduced them to me, there’s no doubt in my mind who these people are. They’re the ones you don’t want to meet in a dark alley, the callous murderers Empire has trained to handle their dirty business. They’re the men you hire when you need a ghost, someone who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty.
A voice rings out from across the warehouse, and my head whips around to follow the sound. A younger guy, maybe in his late twenties, stands near the exit. He’s well put together and deliciously handsome, but there’s something feral in his eyes, something wicked. “You don’t rule over Empire yet, DeVil. We don’t owe you shit.”
“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, Rust,” Zade tells him, watching the guy closely as he pushes off the wall and strides toward us. “Tell me what I need to know and I’ll ensure your honesty is rewarded. There will be great benefits for those who show their support for my rule.”
Rust strides right up to us, his gaze locked on my face, his boldness encouraging the rest of the dangerous crowd to creep in closer. Zade’s hand tightens on my wrist, more than ready to pull me away at a moment’s notice. Rust nods to the old man in the suit before focusing back on me, his gaze like acid on my skin. “He’s right. Bold move bringing Empire’s long-lost princess here,” he rumbles, making my eyes widen, realizing that my DNA isn’t as much of a secret as I’d thought. Rust slowly circles us, and he meets Zade’s stare. “Any smart man would take you out of the picture and take the bitch for himself. Why would I fall to your feet for empty promises when I could put a baby in her and sire an heir of my own?”
