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"Who killed them?"
The lie comes easily. "I do not know."
"How did you get here?"
"I was kidnapped. I escaped my attacker. Your church was right here, and I ran through the woods and a parking lot to get here."
"Is this a setup?" Changing his tone entirely, he becomes sharp with me. Long gone is any sexual threat. Now he's threatening, period.
"What do you mean, setup?"
Rooney rolls his eyes. "You're telling me that two of the best bodyguards in this entire group are dead. You were kidnapped by some unknown person. And then you managed to escape them and find your way to this church? Of all places, your kidnapper let you go so close to my headquarters? Of course this is a setup. What game are you playing?"
"Game?"
His words are so similar to Cam's. I am so confused. Why do they all think I'm playing a game? Why are they so suspicious of me? How can these men who are so powerful, who have promised to protect me, treat me like this? I've done nothing wrong. I've lost my protectors, my dog, and now my faith in Rooney and Cam.
Everything and everyone who's important to me is gone. All that I have left is my mission.
Cracks in the facade of my understanding of how the world works make me turn back to Cam's words. Is everything I know a lie? And if so, why?
Huffing through his nose, he makes a sound of disgust. I know what that sound means because I've heard it from The Mother.
"You really are this naive." As he closes his eyes, I take the chance to bend down and pluck my shirt from the floor, clutching it to my breasts.
"I am your princess, in need of rescue."
Laughter, sharp and hard, fills the room until it touches my skin like a sickening caress.
"You are a very valuable woman, I'll give you that."
Finally. Finally, he is beginning to understand the situation. Perhaps he was just stunned by my sudden appearance. Giving him the benefit of the doubt may be my best approach here.
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment." Beginning to pace, he looks at me frequently, then stares at his phone. When he licks his lips, he reminds me of a wolf.
"I need to be safe again. You are a man of honor. Please help me. I need to be with my husband. We need to fulfill the prophecy. Time is running out."
"The Prophecy above all," he intones, except the way he says the words makes my spine tingle and the hair on my neck stand up. Savage and brutal, his tone crosses the line from mocking into something destructive.
"The Prophecy above all," I repeat, chin jutting up, defiant. If this is a test of my resolve toward my destiny, then I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me weaken.
“Drop the shirt.”
I don’t even ask him why. I just do it.
Makiah walks over to me, reaching down to a spot above both knees, plucking at the fabric of his trousers to lift the tight spots, then drops to one knee, his breath hot against my bare hip. I shudder when his fingertip makes contact with my mark.
“Your scar is so delicate.”
“The pain is worth seeing the prophecy fulfilled.”
His head dips slightly at my words. Good. He needs to feel awe more.
Power less.
“Indeed.” He looks up at me, the fingers on my scar moving lightly down my outer thigh, my skin turning to gooseflesh at his caress. Eyes locked on mine, he’s asking questions without saying a word.
