Ambition, page 4
“Why don’t you tell me, because obviously you have the answer.” Fuck it. I don’t need Von here. I don’t bother hiding the snark. Maybe Cain is above Mads and therefore me, but it’s not as if I’m doing anything wrong. I did my job. Being interrogated by an Unsaint isn’t part of it.
At least, I don’t think it is. But criminals are unpredictable. They like to spring things on you and see how fast you shoot back.
“I hope you didn’t speak to him like that.” And even though the words from Cain could sound like a warning, I don’t think they are.
It makes me feel bolder. I widen my stance marginally, staring back at him. “And if I did?”
Cain glances at the door, and I resist mimicking the gesture. “He seemed upset.” He changes the subject completely.
My throat feels tight, but I don’t swallow as Cain stares at me once more. I say and do nothing at all. He didn’t ask a question and supplying information is for people untrained in the art of psychological pauses. I read a lot, while Von is off doing the more fun assignments, chopping people to bits or whatever I wish I could do—once, I did something worse, but our parents have handled me with kid-gloves when it comes to violence ever since. But for all that book reading, I know a lot Von doesn’t.
“Until he didn’t,” Cain continues, and I wonder if I misread that brief moment of silence between his statements. Maybe it’s just how he speaks. “And you’ve also got a defense up. The two of you are compartmentalizing. I just can’t tell if it’s from your work or each other. Maybe he doesn’t give a fuck about you at all, and he had an unrelated hard night too.”
Immediately, I want to dispute that. My lips part, ready to tell him he has no fucking idea what me and Von mean to each other. Von is the one who taught me algebra—at least, enough for me to pass in our private high school without suffering through additional tutoring sessions with our pervy teacher; math is the one thing Von knows more than me—and how to hold my breath underwater without using my fingers to plug my nose. Before we were even in school, I taught him all of the oceans and continents and that Africa isn’t a fucking country despite the fact most Westerners seem unable to grasp that it contains over fifty of them. Also the differences between New Zealand and Australia, which I was very proud of understanding at the age of four and truthfully would tell anyone who would listen so maybe that doesn’t make Von special but…he is.
More selectively, we taught each other the language of kissing, although at the time, neither of us were fluent.
And I know from him what it’s like to be loved unconditionally, even when it breaks his heart.
I know that he has seen the worst thing I have ever done, and he cradled me to his chest like I was still precious to him, never minding the blood of another man all over us both.
But I clamp down on my back teeth and say nothing of it. “What do you really want from me, or am I free to go?”
Cain’s gaze flicks to my throat.
I straighten, resisting the compulsion to duck my chin and hide what I can.
“I see nothing when I look at those,” he says, meeting my eye again. The hickeys, he means, I’m sure. “Nothing except, perhaps, a fun night. But when he saw them, I think it looked a little different.”
I do not confirm nor deny. Instead, I wait for Cain to get to the point.
And alarmingly, he does, much faster than I anticipated. “I have seen men risk my entire brotherhood over jealousy. Make mistakes that could ruin us.” He stays exactly where he is, but somehow, despite his low voice, he feels closer. More dangerous. “Do not let him lash out in anger and destroy not only your career, but Writhe as a whole.” He gives the barest, darkest hint of a smile. “I will not hesitate to ensure Writhe does not exist if he steps out of line. And if I sense it happening before he fucks everything completely, I’ll spare your organization by forfeiting his life.”
The implications are clear to me and I don’t fucking like them. “So I will be punished if I don’t control his emotions?”
“In the same way I am if I don’t temper my brothers.” The way he says it, I understand he does not mean his blood-related siblings; families are born differently in this life.
I say nothing and only glare back at him.
“And because you’ve taken this so well,” another hint of a twisted smirk, “I’ll give you some advice. Theo Sancte is asking you questions he knows the answers to not to test whether or not you are a liar, but to see what information you give him to fill in the gaps of his knowledge. And if you offer enough, he will know exactly why you are on your back for him.”
I narrow my gaze. “I wasn’t on my fucking back.”
His eye contact somehow intensifies, the way he stares at me in something I would like to believe is approval, but he says nothing about it when he speaks again, so perhaps not.
“And he is asking about your hobbies—sports, books, movies, music—to potentially track you to some event surrounding them.”
I frown. The thought had never occurred to me, and I want to instantly argue the point. It’s not logical. “Why would he do that? If he wanted me followed, surely he would assign someone to tail me—”
“You think you’re worth that much?”
I can’t help it then, exposing my true feelings. My fingers curl into a tight fist as I stare at him, livid. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that.
He smiles softly. “To him, I mean. I have a feeling you are worth more than most things to at least one other person.” He inclines his head slowly toward the door.
The one Von stands outside of.
“Sancte may track you, every now and then, but I assume you expected that and checked your mirrors on your way here. Regardless, finding you by accident at a larger venue—a sporting event, maybe, a show—would be annoying and tedious if he didn’t already know where to look. But perhaps now he does, and he sees you with a member of my father’s brotherhood, or maybe me, or—”
“Why on earth would I go to a concert with you? Or your father?” I don’t feel as if I overstepped, saying that. I’m just annoyed he assumed I would do such a thing. Sure, he’s sexy as hell but I don’t trust him.
Cain’s smirk is slightly evil, but he ignores my question all the same. “Do not give any more information than necessary. Do not talk because you’re nervous. Do not lie, but there is no need to spill out your entire life story.”
I want to argue I’ve done none of those things, but I know Cain Bonavich’s position in life, and it is much higher than my own. Due to that, I understand he is actually being quite generous with his advice. And it is solid counsel, in some ways I didn’t think of before.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, wondering if he will ask me for something in return. Everyone is like that in this world. Maybe in every world. People are out for themselves. It’s why Von and I cling to each other, in some ways. He’d put me before anything.
He would ruin his life for my sake.
As for what I would do for him… there’s a reason I drove the pitchfork into the guard’s belly seven years ago, curling his organs against the spindles like pasta.
It had nothing to do with my safety. Everything to do with Von’s.
He doesn’t know that though. True loyalty doesn’t need to be exposed like a nerve.
“Don’t thank me.” Cain brushes it off entirely, but the words also sound like a command. “Don’t thank anyone for anything in this career. It implies you owe them a debt. Do you want to owe me?” He lifts both brows.
I glance at his physique. Maybe. “No.”
He nods once and does not smile. “Good. Tomorrow morning, report here at dawn. Alone.” He glances at the door, then he walks toward me, and I tense. But he simply passes by, only his arm brushing my shoulder.
The scent of him is divine, something dark and sensual, and it catches in my lungs. But I still pivot to scowl at the back of his head while appreciating the defined lines of his spine. “Why?”
He stills, not looking at me, hands in his pockets. Then he says nothing at all and continues into the gym, rounding the wall past the elevated boxing ring.
Prick.
I want to call after him but this, again, feels like a test.
Releasing a frustrated breath, I steel myself to deal with Von, presumably—hopefully—waiting in the hallway.
ISADORA
“You know I can drive.” I speak the words even after my bag is in the back of Von’s Bentley, the two of us sitting in the underground parking lot below Nox, me in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. He opened the door for me when we came down here and I got in, because I know his head is fucked and I don’t like when it is.
I don’t look at his bloody knuckles clenched around the shifter.
Or the fact he’s wearing a black hoodie and backwards hat now after changing somewhere inside Nox, red curls edging under the cap. Black sneakers, a watch on his wrist; it’s got a green face. His mom gave it to him and she doesn’t give him much, with her focus on her own career.
We’re alike in that way, me and Lora Bentzen.
Maybe it’s why he likes me so much. Some kind of Oedipus complex trickling down. I wrinkle my nose and push the thought aside.
Hip-hop plays from his speakers, turned down low. We have opposite music tastes, him and I, and I want to connect my phone over his and turn up Breaking Benjamin, but I sit in his running car instead, staring at the red leather interior and waiting for him to speak out of his sulking.
I absentmindedly run my fingers over my throat and I don’t realize it’s sore until I wince, and I briefly wonder if Cain saw where Von bit me, or if it was where Theo sucked my skin.
Von must notice the movement because slowly he turns his head to look at me and I decide to meet his gaze and get this shit over with.
His face is expressionless. His mask.
A muscle twitches in his forearm, though, the one stretched out to grip the wheel.
I notice it out of the corner of my eye and press my knees together, my hands on my thighs.
I want to snap at him. Tell him to stop being such a fucking baby about this.
But I remember seven years ago.
I never forget it; all the things I’d do for him.
Can I really be mad he has the same warped feelings for me?
“Did you like it?” he asks quietly. “When I bit over where he touched you?” He glances at my throat, gray eyes dipping for a moment, then rising again.
I stare at his full lips. The freckles on his smooth skin. The beautiful shape of his eyes, the hollows from lack of sleep beneath them, which are pretty damn hot.
I rest my head against the back of the seat, pretending I am comfortable and relaxed. That my heart isn’t racing inside my chest, reflecting on that so sober kiss he initiated.
“Liked it well enough,” I say quietly, smiling a little.
His eyes narrow. “Yeah?” He glances past me, where there’s a door that leads to the stairwell to Nox. “You let Cain Bonavich bite you too?”
I clench my teeth at his snarky remark as he stares at me.
He tilts his head, watching me carefully. “Oh?” he presses calmly. “Does that offend you, Isa?”
“I’d let Cain do anything he wanted to me, if we’re being honest.” I don’t even blink as I lie. “He could pin me down and fuck me senseless and I’d thank him for it.” Might not be a bad idea, just the once.
Von’s cheeks go hollow. Then he smiles slowly. “Maybe invite him by tonight. Karia and Cosmo are coming to relieve some of my stress.” He turns to stare out the windshield, then puts the car in drive. “Over you,” he adds, his voice quiet.
I refuse to give into the feeling of nails digging into my heart. And all I say is, “Great.”
Karia Ven is stunning. She is blonde and lithe and beautiful with tanned white skin—not sure if the tan is real but it looks very good—and she is currently sitting on the gray sectional in our living room, a drink in her hand, the other massaging Von’s shoulder as he glances at me across the room, his shirt off and sweats slung low on his hips.
Karia is dressed in a casual red skirt and oversized white tank and Von’s hand is on her bare thigh in the darkened living room.
It’s not even noon, but hours and time mean nothing to us. Besides, with the blacked-out curtains closed tight, it’s like night in here.
“Hi, Isa!” Karia says brightly, smiling at me as she huddles up next to Von.
She is the daughter of a family friend; a year younger than us, she was around a lot when we were forced into panic rooms and hiding from enemies while our parents defended us against whatever threats came our way. Or rather, my dad and Von’s parents did. My mom was usually with us, watching over us like some sort of wicked angel.
She wasn’t wicked exactly, and in fact, she doesn’t really fit into the perception of professional criminals, but she was complicit and supportive all the same, so she’s earned her honor.
“Hi, Karia.” I grab a banana from the smoky gray island in the adjoining, open-plan kitchen. Karia pulled up as soon as Von drove past our condo’s gates, but I hurried inside ahead of them to put my stuff in my room.
Now, they’re here. I don’t know where Cosmo is—a friend of ours from our private high school, although he’s two years older than Von and I but graduated with our class—and I wish he was here if only to make this less awkward.
Von’s hand slides dangerously high up Karia’s thigh, pushing back her red skirt. His hands are so big, I swear it’s like his palm and fingers curve nearly around her entire leg.
I try to breathe as Karia widens her thighs and clears her throat, looking away from me. Unlike myself, she has no aspirations to work in Writhe. She wants to be married, and maybe become a teacher, and she does not want to twirl a man’s intestines from his bowels for the sake of her best friend.
“Ah, I see why we were invited.” Cosmo’s voice fills the kitchen at the same time he comes inside from the patio.
I turn to glance over my shoulder and feel relief in my core, taking in the checkered lighter he has in one hand, the all black attire he’s wearing, his shaved head, olive white skin, and green eyes on mine. He is tall and skinny and gorgeous, and he is looking between Karia and Von, and myself, like he knows exactly what’s up.
“Isa,” Von says quietly, drawing my attention back to him. I turn and watch him nod his head as if he is acknowledging my emergence from my room, despite the fact I live here. He glances at Cosmo. “Hope you don’t mind,” he says, his gaze coming back to me.
I squeeze the banana tighter in my hand as Von turns to the TV, dismissing me and flicking through selections. I know he will waste an hour finding precisely what he wants to watch, and it drives me crazy. I usually take the remote from him and put something on myself. But no way in fuck am I watching a movie with them while he fingers her between us. And he’ll do it, even if Cosmo is here, simply to spite me.
His hand has already disappeared up her skirt.
He is not even a casual sex person. Not usually, but if he is, it’s often with Karia. Which makes this worse, somehow. But I learned how to keep my poker face from the best.
“Have fun, you two,” I say very calmly.
And I watch with satisfaction as Von’s eyes cut to mine and his entire body goes stiff.
I smile and wink at him, then turn to find Cosmo is right behind me. Despite his height, he always moves in such eerie silence. He would make a good member of Writhe, if his parents had been born into such a thing. But he’s estranged from them and as it is, he has his own work. Performance art, and the only thing I know about it is the tattoos along his shoulder blades cover up scars from an act he did a few years ago.
He stares down at me, the green in his eyes startling like lime. The scent of nicotine is strong along his body but so is something else, like a bonfire in the fall.
“What did you do last night?” he asks quietly, his voice dropped low. But a smile teases his lips, the bottom one so plush and pink. He has the ability to make everything sound amusing, and it is kind of unnerving. But I trust him well enough; he knows our family is involved in dangerous things and he has never broken our confidence.
“What do you mean?” I counter, squeezing the banana tight in my hand. It doesn’t matter that he knows a little about Writhe; he isn’t in our circle. He can’t know our missions.
He steps closer in his black high-tops, his bright green gaze flicking from my throat back to my eyes. “Don’t play stupid with me, Isadora.” His voice is way too smooth. “Was it a performance?” He has a slight northern accent; his family is from New York. I used to tease him about it constantly and he would play back about my Southern twang. And although he’s smiling, things feel suddenly tense.
Maybe because I know Von is probably watching, even with Karia practically in his lap.
“I don’t act, like you.”
“I’m not an actor. I’m an artist.” He winks, then drops his gaze to the banana in my hand. “Maybe you are too, of a sort?”
“Cosmo.” Von’s hard voice comes from the living room. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
My pulse leaps to my throat as Cosmo’s eyes study mine beneath his black brows. He seems to be asking me a question without words, and yet there is some understanding there, too, in his quiet demeanor. He knows what Von and I are like.
Weird.
And once upon a time, we didn’t have this strange tension between us. We loved one another more freely, openly. I would be the one touching him on the couch, but he always shied away from anything past friendly gestures when we were younger.
So I took the hint and found someone else. And another person after that, and another and another. It’s for the best, I tell myself. Loving your best friend in this life is like posting your blackmail online. People would always be after us, pitting us against one another. Best to pretend there is nothing like the deepest love hidden away in our hearts.
