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I don't like hearing her talk about me like that, reducing me to an object valued only for what I represent, not for who I am. But I stay quiet, listening intently.
"Aurora's presence here in Elysium, or at my side, sends Nero a message," says Hadria. "One I intend to reinforce at key moments. She will be seen at certain operations and events, a constant reminder to my brother that his prized bride now belongs to me. And Nero will feel the sting of it every time he sees her. She's the embodiment of my victory over him. It will drive him into a frenzy. And then…then he will make a mistake."
Of course. How did I manage to make myself forget?
To Hadria, I'm a pretty bauble to show off as a taunt to Nero. Nothing but a pawn in her chess game. Not a person with her own dreams and desires, or heart and mind.
She's no better than her brother.
I'm tempted to fling open the doors and confront her, refuse to be paraded around like an animal in a circus. But that would only undermine the precarious standing I've achieved so far. So I just stand there, fists clenched, jaw tight, as I listen to Hadria discuss me like an inanimate object.
But she's not the only one I'm mad at. Lyssa must have known exactly what Hadria was going to say tonight. And she wanted me to hear it, too.
For now, at least publicly, I know I must play the role assigned to me, bide my time. But that doesn't mean I have to accept it. Hadria intends to use me as a weapon against Nero, but weapons can be double-edged.
"My brother has reached out for another meeting," Hadria goes on. "This time, I plan to take Aurora with me. So be aware—the rabid dog might start to snap his jaws very soon, now."
There's a murmur, and then I hear the scraping of chairs again, the meeting wrapping up. Quickly I back away from the doors and run back to my room, where I pace up and down, still fuming. Eventually, it's too much for me, and I head down to the empty training room—not the shooting range; Hadria's not trusting enough to allow me free access to guns…yet—and after warming up, I go through the martial arts forms Lyssa has been drilling us with lately.
I need to focus on something physical, something that requires my complete attention. And as I go through the forms, I can feel the tension slowly seeping out of my muscles, my anger dying down as I lose myself in the motions.
Hadria wants me at this meeting with her brother as bait, nothing more, but it does give me an opportunity to understand their relationship better. And information is always valuable.
After a while, Lyssa enters the room. I obstinately keep moving through my forms, and she watches me silently. When I finish my routine, I turn to face her. "Were you trying to hurt me by letting me hear all that?"
She raises an eyebrow, then tilts her head. "If you were eavesdropping, that's on you," she replies evenly. But then she surprises me by moving closer and critiquing my stance. Shecomes to stand beside me and demonstrates the martial art form again, getting me to mimic her stance, and raising up my elbow, firming my stance.
I think, in Lyssa's mind, what she did was not intended to hurt me, but to make me…aware. She wants me to understand the reality of my situation, the harsh truth that Hadria doesn't care about me as a person, only as a prize in her game with Nero.
"Thank you," I say quietly, meeting Lyssa's gaze. "I needed that." And I don't only mean the correction to my form.
She seems to understand, giving a curt nod before standing back to watch me practice the movements she showed me. And I find myself grateful for Lyssa's lesson. It's a harsh truth to swallow, but it will make me stronger in the end.
"Lyssa," I pant out, "why do people call you the Wolf?"
She smiles a little. "Because they know I'll rip their fucking throats out given half the chance."
"And the others? Tony the Taxman? What's that about?"
At that, she gives an outright laugh. "Tony's known for taking limbs first as a warning if someone won't pay a debt, then lives if they still won't pay. So people started to advise others to 'pay the taxman,' which he found hilarious."
I'm not sure I do.
After that, I learn that Ilona the Impaler likes to use knives and other bladed weapons—and since she's of Romanian heritage, some humorist once described her as Vlad the Impaler's descendent, and the name stuck.
"And Ricky?" I ask. "His hands…"
Lyssa stops smiling. "Ricky was once tortured by a cartel, when they were trying to find out Hades' true identity. He lost seven fingers that day. And he kept his damn mouth shut. So you just think about that during this next meeting with Nero, Suzy. Think about whether you'd prefer to be here in Elysium with Hadria, or having your fingers severed in a dark room somewhere."
I stop dead, staring at her. "I thought you didn't want me here."
"I never said that." She stands from where she was leaning casually against a weights machine and heads toward the door. "Make sure you keep going through those forms," she throws over her shoulder. "God knows you need all the practice you can get."
I think about Ricky Half-hands' lost fingers, and I do what Lyssa said: I keep practicing. And as I go through my forms, I make a silent vow to myself.
I won't ever forget again that Hadria doesn't see me as a person. That she sees me only as a weapon in her arsenal, a tool to use against her enemies.
And someday, I'll make her realize just how foolish she was to underestimate me.
