Page 153 of Echoes of the Banshee

I tilt my head and smirk.

“Probably a lot longer than you would if the situation was reversed,” I say coolly. “So, are you going to get to the exposition or can I go back to my nap?”

He snorts, taking another step closer.

“You got spirit, spell-doll.” He chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Word is you’ve got a thing for goblins. Must be your lucky day.”

“Oh!” I feign surprise, lifting my brows. “And here I thought I was being kidnapped, not rewarded.” I glance around the room, pouting theatrically. “But all I see are old, ugly goblins. Got anything in blue? Maybe something… fresher?”

His face flushes under the fluorescent lights. I wait. His anger simmers just beneath the surface. His fists tighten at his sides and I brace myself, waiting for the blow. But I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” he snarls.

I shrug nonchalantly, the sharp edge of my smile still in place.

“What can I say? I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities. Right up there with my questionable instincts and keen eye for décor.” I gesture to the cavernous, steel-and-concrete space around us. “This place? Not exactly screaming ‘villain hideout.’ Maybe splurge on some actual walls, or at least a rug to break up the monotony. You don’t even have an ironic bloodstain.”

Benson groans softly beside me and reaches out to grab my hand. I dare a quick glance at him. His face is pale, his body trembling with pain. His breath comes in short, labored gasps.

“Thea…” he mutters, his voice tight and strained. “Maybe you should—”

The leader’s attention snaps to Benson with alarming speed, cutting him off mid-sentence. His cruel smile stretches wider as his large frame looms over him, casting a long, dark shadow.

“What’s this? Trying to shield your fragile little hexer? Cute.” He squats beside Benson, leaning in close enough that I can hear the low rasp of his voice. Another grunt escapes him, frustration seeping into his every movement. “Tell me, Imp, do you think that will save you? You can barely stand up. If you’ve got something to say, better make it quick. Before I decide what to break first.”

I glance at Benson, then back to the leader, my smirk never faltering. I crush my fear beneath practiced detachment. The second they sense weakness, they’ll use it.

“Wow, Grunt,” I say, my voice dripping with mockery. “That was a lot of words at once. Does your little brain hurt?” I ask, raising my voice in exaggerated concern as if I’m speaking to a child. “You know, maybe I could get you a warm drink. It might help with all that thinking.”

“What did you just call me?” His voice darkens with irritation, his teeth gritting together and another grunt sneaks out, causing my lips to tilt up.

I cock my head, drawing it out. “Grunt. You know, like the noise you make when you think.” I tap my chin, feigning innocence. “Can’t say I’m impressed by the intellectual prowess on display. Want to tell me who’s really doing the thinking here?”

The tension in the room escalates, the air thick with the promise of violence. But I don’t cower; I hold his stare and let him see exactly how unafraid I am.

“You want to keep running your mouth?” he spits, his voice dripping with venom as he steps forward, his hand darting out to grab my jaw roughly. His fingers dig into my skin, forcing my head to tilt upward so he can glare down at me. “Fine. You won’t be talking when I break you. And trust me, doll, I will.”

The cold fury in his words proves everything. I force my lips into a smirk, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Promises, promises. Just don’t be disappointed when you realize I’m harder to crack than you think.”

I can feel the rage vibrating in the air between us, like a storm ready to burst. Good. Let him seethe. The more frustrated he gets, the more mistakes he’ll make. And the more mistakes he makes, the better my chances of getting out of here.

His breath comes heavier, like he’s fighting to keep his temper under control. Then, in a sudden move, he shoves me. It catches me completely off guard and I crash into Benson. His arms shoot out just in time to catch me as we collapse to the cold floor.

“Take them back to the storeroom,” Grunt growls, his voice like gravel grinding against steel.

“But we haven’t gotten to the fun part yet!” I protest, my tone dripping with mock indignation. “Call me when you’re cleared to do more than grunt and glare.”

They drag us through the warehouse and we’re thrown into the storeroom. I stumble, barely catching myself against the wall. The heavy door slams shut behind us with a metallic clang. The lock clicks into place, sealing us in.

Benson’s frustration flares as he turns on me.

“What the hell was that, Thea?” he snarls. “Was that fucking necessary?”

I brush myself off and flash him a smug smile.

“It was fun,” I reply with a playful shrug. “And also absolutely necessary.”