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“With a bit more romantic affection tossed in there,” Chip adds.
My heart quivers. “Where are my parents?”
“They’re in a quaint little prison of ours in a quaint little country no one’s heard of, population: Rosanera,” Aster—or Lance as I suppose is the name he normally goes by—says. “Over the past few months, she’s occasionally called and made life a little more…inconvenient for them.”
My brow arches. “How so?”
Lace mumbles, “She only gave them lemonade and pineapple as fluids for a solid week at one point.”
“…what?”
A fond smile touches Chip’s mouth. “Bromelain. It’s an enzyme in pineapple that digests protein. After eating enough of it, your mouth goes raw. Bloody, even. Add lemonade to the mix…”
Swearing, I cover my mouth.
“She fancies that there’s an art to most things,” Lance murmurs. “Abuse, attire, existence. Nothing’s ever so simple with her. She’s a little too creative for that. Kind of like your parents, Boss.”
I clench a fist. “She is nothing like my parents.”
Lance hums. “Are you sure about that? People tend to fall for the familiar, you especially.”
“Everything’s a game with her.” Lace toys with the hem of her shirt. “She plays to win.”
“But that doesn’t make her the monster they were.” Rising, I clench my fist at my side. “And that also doesn’t mean she’s infallible. I’m going after her, just to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s not the type to change her stubborn mind over a prince charming move,” Lace comments. “Give her another half hour, and we can turn on the TV to discover she’s blown up a warehouse.”
My jaw tightens. “Since Granger’s men are the only other people who know about the Maxim Project and she has to be with them if they’re using that name, she’s currently being held by dozens of men who hate her. Am I the only one who understands what that means?”
Lace stares at me, for far longer than is entirely comfortable. Finally, she echoes, “Men,” as though that isn’t the part that has me half-nauseous. Men, especially Granger’s, are not safe. And no matter how skilled Briar is, she is still human. She can still be overpowered.
“Rowan.” Chip closes the distance between us and sets a hand on my shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, buddy. But she will castrate them. Effortlessly.”
“And if she’s unconscious?” I grit. “If she’s distracted? If anything goes wrong?”
“Then it is already too late,” Lance mumbles. “Granger’s men are unstable. Sending a team after them, if she is compromised, could force their hands. They don’t have deeper plots. The only skin they have in this is vengeance. Killing her in front of us before we mow them down makes none of us the winners.”
“We trust her,” Lace says. “She has never steered us wrong. Not once. She’ll get out of this, and it’ll be a great story over ice cream later.”
“I trust her, too, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t crying for the same help she offers everyone else.” A tight breath sifts into my lungs. “I don’t need a team.”
“Rowan—”
I swat Chip’s hand off me and march past him. “Some things are worse than death.”
“Hello,” Bugsy trills from the corner as I open the door, “my name’s Oreo.”
Freezing in the archway, I look at my bird.
“Oreo.” He chirps. “My name’s Oreo.” He plays with the colorful bells strung up in his cage. “Hello, my name’s Oreo. Pretty bird.”
One boundary. I gave her one boundary. One. She could stab me if she wanted. Twist the knife. Gaslight me into thinking it was for my own good just like my parents always did. I’d get over it. But, no. She messed with my stupid bird.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Chip murmurs. “She did it.”
My eye twitches. “Lance.”
“Boss?”
