AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"This fucking sucks," she says, her breathing shallow.
I climb in behind her, nestling her back to my chest. My arm loops around her waist and she sighs, the last of the tension leaving her. That one sound settles into my soul and I close my eyes. I may not believe I'm capable of bringing down the Guild, but she's more important right now.
As her breathing evens out, I slip from the bed. The hallway beyond our door is bright, empty save for Jag. He swings around, raising his eyebrow.
"This isn't working. We need to make a move before shit goes sideways."
"The Auction is shit going sideways," he mutters.
"It's too close to the annual one now. He'll postpone, probably push it beyond New Year's. We need to get our shit together before then."
A minute passes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I don't know what else to do beyond starting to blow shit up randomly. If I could get some help, have them hit some of the other sites in the city the Guild has taken over, it might be enough to tip Jenkins over the edge.
It won't be enough, though. I need Aelia to fuck with their money or get further into their system at the very least. She's no hacker and asking only puts her in more danger.
"We need backup," he says, breaking the silence.
"When you figure out who, let me know."
"Call your guys. Hell, call Helms. He called you when they came to Synd. Time for him to repay the favor."
"I'll think about it. Right now, I'm focusing on how to keep Aelia safe."
"About fucking time," he grumbles, turning away and settling into a chair set up against the wall.
I close the door, not bothering to say good night. Pulling off my clothes, I drop them next to the bed before climbing in next to her. She rolls, cuddling her face into my chest. I flip the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.
Twenty-Eight
Aelia
Three weeks of healing has taken its toll on me. Sitting in this chair every night hasn't helped. Jenkins watches me the entire time, refusing to let me leave. Holding my bladder that long is probably going to give me an infection. Dante hasn't bothered to come to the office, lying low. My father has been even more absent, never leaving his room.
"Get back to work, whore. I'm not keeping you around to stare blankly into space," Jenkins says. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't have to.
I focus on the screen again, inputting more numbers from the last quarter. It's mind-numbing work, double checking every entry to make sure it's all correct. Jenkins made me go back through every quarter for the last three years, redoing every spreadsheet.
Busy work. That's all this is. I don't know if he noticed the transfers I've been making, but I doubt it. If that were the case, I'd probably be locked away in some forgotten space while Grant played out whatever sick and twisted fantasies he's had over the years.
"Get Cruz in here. Now," he growls.
I glance up, then realize we're the only ones here. I jump up, smoothing my skirt down as the sequins cut into my palms. It's one of the monstrosities Grant dropped off, smirking as Dante accepted the outfit without a word.
When the next day rolled around, it was the same thing. I took them and wore them even when Dante raged about the control they were exerting over me. It's nothing new, so I don't care. Maybe I should.
"Hurry the fuck up." He jabs at his keyboard.
He rarely uses the computer, and I'm pretty sure he barely knows how to turn it on. He asked me a few years ago to show him how to search for something, but I think it was an excuse to harass me. His eyes never left my ass and his hands...well those will be the first to go if I ever get the chance.
I've taken to whispering to Dante in the early morning hours about how I'd take him apart. I've gotten pretty creative on how to disassemble a body with his help. Apparently using his bowels to create a noose isn't possible, but I told Dante to let a girl dream.
As soon as I step from the office, Grant appears at my elbow, shadowing me as I walk down the hallway. He's become bolder since Dante has been keeping a low profile. I hate it, but at least Grant has kept his hands to himself for the most part.
My side cramps as I pull in a deep breath. I'm still not entirely healed and it's almost as frustrating as Dante telling me to back off our plans.
Jag is nowhere to be found when we reach Dante's bedroom. It's still hard to think of it as mine instead of just another stopover, not a destination. Grant crowds into my back as I knock on the door. Usually I'd just walk right in, but with Grant here, I'd rather he not follow me inside. If Dante isn't here, I don't know what he’ll do.
"Open the door, slut," Grant whispers, his fingers pinching my bruised side.
