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“But there is a chance,” Hermione says gently, crossing from her position by the cell door to stand beside me. “And you know it. There’s a good chance those stones will work with or without your permission. You’re strong, but you’re also injured, detoxing from some serious sedatives, and exhausted from sleeping on that slab of rock masquerading as a mattress every night.” Her lips curve up a bit. “So, it might make sense to see the writing on the wall and make this work for you rather than against you.”
The tiger’s wary gaze shifts from Hermione to me and back again. “And how would I do that?”
“You answer our questions now, of your own free will,” she says. “And then we test you with a truth stone.” He starts to cut in, but Hermione speaks louder. “Then, we’ll be free to use the second stone on Maxim, so you can get honest answers to your questions from our Alpha.”
He sits back, his brow furrowing as he shoots me a sideways glance. “You’re shitting me.”
I hold out both hands, palms open—one filled with stones and one empty. “No. It’s come to my attention that you may have been led to believe I have…nefarious plans of some sort. But I don’t. Truly. And I’m willing to testify to that under the effects of a truth stone if that’s what it takes to convince you.”
He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “Fuck that. This is some kind of a trick. I know the way you operate. You’re a con artist. You’ve got the human authorities convinced you’re some kind of philanthropist, meanwhile you’re pumping the city full of drugs. You act like your dad just got tired and passed the torch when the entire shifter world knows you poisoned him.”
I pride myself on my poker face, but that—
I wasn’t expecting that.
I’m fucking shocked to the bone and I guess it shows in my expression because a second later, the tiger snorts and says, “You really didn’t know? You thought you had everyone fooled?”
“That’s not true,” I say. “I would never, could never hurt my father. I love him. I almost lost my mind when I thought he wasn’t going pull through after the poisoning.” I hold out the stones. “And I’m willing to prove it. I’ll even go first.”
His jaw tightens and I can see his faith in whoever’s been filling his head with lies waver. Hermione steps into the moment with a soft, “But if Maxim goes first, you have to give your word that you’ll show good faith, too. Honesty isn’t a one-way street.”
The tiger curls his thick fingers into his thighs over the orange fabric of the scrubs provided for long-term prisoners. “If you prove trustworthy under the power of one of those stones…then I’ll talk. But if you turn out to be the sorry sack of shit I’m fully expecting you to be, the deal is off.”
It’s not much of a deal, but it’s our only shot at getting more than the truth. If I can prove to this man that he’s been misled, we might acquire more than information. We might win a valuable ally in the fight against my brother and his power-hungry bride.
So, I take one of the blue stones, hand the other two to Hermione, and then place the stone inside my cheek, praying this man doesn’t ask anything that will shame me in front of my second-in-command. Hermione knows me better than anyone, but we all have secrets we’d rather not share with our co-workers.
Hopefully this tiger has better questions to ask than whether or not I’ve ever loathed one of Hermione’s girlfriends. (I have, but Jennifer was a shallow bitch, and I’m willing to provide evidence to support that opinion if necessary.)
Almost immediately, I feel the stone working, flooding my body with a cool, tingly feeling like I’ve just jumped into a vat of peppermint muscle balm. My stomach is a little queasy, but otherwise, I feel relaxed, calm, and completely defenseless.
I know I’ll hate that part once the stone’s power taps out, but for now it’s a pleasantly novel sensation, like swooping down from the top of a rollercoaster.
Hermione leans down, doing a visual check with me. I nod. She nods, makes a face that clearly questions my sanity, then turns back to the tiger, “You have five to six questions before the juice runs out. Make them count.”
Sitting up straighter, his eyes lock on mine as he asks, “Did you try to kill your father?”
“No, I didn’t,” I say easily, not feeling the need to elaborate the way I usually would. But that’s part of the magic of the stones, they cut to the core of a question, no beating around the bush.
The tiger’s brows lift in seeming surprise, but he has his second question ready only a second later. “Did you forbid your brother from ever returning home upon penalty of death?”
“No, I didn’t,” I say, still feeling very calm, though deep inside my head a part of me is howling in protest.
Did my brother tell him that? Is Bane the one painting me as a villain?
My second answer seems to shake the tiger more than the first. His lips part but he shuts them again with a grunt. “No point in asking the same question twice.” He glances up at Hermione. “He really can’t lie? When his eyes are all fuzzy like that?”
She shakes her head. “No, he can’t.”
His breath rushes out. “Fuck.” His fingers dig deeper into his thighs. “Did you give Kelley poison to make her infertile?”
“No, I didn’t,” I reply, too dumbfounded to even know what to think about that.
The tiger, looking progressively more disturbed asks, “Did you kidnap Willow? And have you been holding her prisoner?”
Those two questions stump me for a moment, but just a moment, and then the stone cuts to the truth of that, as well. “I did not kidnap her. I have been holding her prisoner, on and off.”
He scowls. “Why?”
