Kelly Meade - Black Rook

Despite his confusion over the conversation, Knight simply nodded. “Keys?”

She dug them out of her pocket with her left hand and tossed them. Knight caught the two keys and simple ring with one hand, and then he was gone, boots pounding down the stairs. Brynn wiped her face with the back of her hand, surprised to find a few stray tears. She sagged against the wall where she’d cornered herself, unsure if her knees would buckle or not.

“Was this your original plan?” Rook asked after a moment of silence.

The sheer calm of his voice made her look up, right at him. He stood near the desk, every muscle rigid, his posture defensive. Only his face was passive, blank except for the rage sparking in his eyes. Rage that punched Brynn right in the gut, because she had put it there.

“I believed my vision, Rook. I thought saving my father might redeem me in his eyes. He accused me of fabricating his death in order to win back his favor. I thought that finding some manner of proof that I was right would change the fact that I’m a failure in the eyes of the Congress.”

“The Congress is big on murder?”

“No, they aren’t.” She pushed back another press of tears.

That muscle under his eye twitched again. “You didn’t come here to talk. You came to murder me.”

“No!” She put all of her waning strength into the denial. “I came to solve the murder in my vision before it could occur. The ring was meant for my protection. I didn’t know how you’d react when I told you what I saw.”

“You thought what? I’d try to kill you for asking questions?”

“I didn’t know. All I know of the loup is what my father has told me.”

“Which is that we’re all cold-blooded killers who aren’t to be trusted?”

“Yes.”

“Typical.”

“I never intended to use the ring unless I felt my life was in danger. I hope you can believe that, Rook.”

“Does it really matter what I believe about you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She had no answer. She didn’t know herself why she wanted his forgiveness so desperately. She didn’t understand why his simmering anger upset her so much, or why she’d felt his earlier touch in every corner of her body. Yes, her survival instincts were in high gear, and she knew better than to antagonize an already emotional loup garou. However, this felt personal in a way that made absolutely no sense.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs toward them, and seconds later Knight rushed through the door. He kicked it shut, then stalked toward Brynn with the black case in one hand.

“What the hell is this?” Knight asked. “Ketamine? Are you trying to dope him, or what?”

“Of course not,” Brynn replied, startled by his shaking rage—such a difference from the calm anger she saw in Rook—and she stammered for an explanation. “It will deactivate the drug that’s already in his system. Granted, the side effects might—”

“What drug is in his system?” Knight bristled, and the calm rush she’d felt from him only twenty minutes earlier was gone, replaced by a tingle of something she couldn’t explain. Something dark and unsettling.

“Can we argue about this after I get the antidote, please?” Rook asked.

Knight opened the case and produced a glass syringe filled with a clear liquid. “You trust her enough for me to poke you with this, little brother?”

Rook didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Brynn closed her eyes, and two hot tears left trails down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away when she opened her eyes again. “Inject it into the soft tissue at the top of the gluteus maximus,” she said softly.

Knight stared at her.

“She means the top of my ass,” Rook said.

“I know that. Someone’s eventually going to tell me what this is all about, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Rook moved to the other side of the desk, and as soon as he reached for his belt, Brynn looked away. She stared down over the auction floor, at all of the humans going about their day, oblivious to the events unfolding in the office. She watched Thomas McQueen say something to the woman on his right, to the music of Rook’s belt jangling and the whisper of cotton. The woman wrote something down, right as Rook grunted.

“Sorry,” Knight said.

Brynn thought of her father, of how angry he’d be knowing how badly she’d screwed up today. And the thought of it crushed her. She wiped away more stray tears, frustrated by their continued presence. Once she was turned over to the Alpha for poisoning his son, she would not beg for mercy. She wouldn’t cry again. She would accept her fate as a proper, stoic Magus and, even if he never knew, do her father proud in her final moments.

Her gaze swept over the tops of heads, only to be caught by someone waiting at the end of the line of runners. Bishop stared up at her, his expression difficult to discern at such a distance. She turned away from the window and was grateful to see Rook cinching his belt back up.

“You may want to sit down,” Brynn said.

“Yeah, that sounds like the perfect plan after being stuck in the ass with a needle,” Rook replied.

The fact that he could even be sarcastic with her gave Brynn a tiny flare of hope. Hope for what, though, she wasn’t certain. “The ketamine can cause disorientation and dizziness, Rook. Please.”

He sat gingerly in one of the wicker chairs.

Knight put the empty syringe back in the black case, shoved the case into his rear pocket, then turned the full force of himself onto Brynn. “Now are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Brynn explained everything from the moment she and Rook were left alone in the office, to the conversation they had while Knight was fetching the antidote from her car. She impressed herself with her steady voice and still hands, even though her insides were shaking uncontrollably. Nothing about this was okay, and yet it felt less hopeless than even a few minutes ago. Knight was still exuding contained fury, but Rook seemed downright calm. More than anything else, Rook’s composure fed her own emotional state—and she didn’t understand why.

Knight didn’t say a word during or after her explanation of events. He turned and walked to a small door she hadn’t noticed before, opposite the office entrance, and went inside. From her angle, she saw a small mirror on the wall above an edge of white porcelain, and she guessed it to be a private bathroom. Knight returned a moment later with a paper cup in his hand. He went straight over to Brynn and held out the cup.

“Put the ring inside,” he said in a tone that dared her to argue.

She did as he asked, grateful to have the dangerous object off her finger and away.

“Thank you.” He folded down the top of the cup, creating a neat little package for the ring, which he tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. “Now stay there for a minute.”

“Okay.” Brynn remained perfectly still while Knight helped Rook over to the bathroom. She heard the unmistakable sound of running water, which lasted for a solid minute of washing. She was desperate to do the same, to wash the offensive drug off her skin, even though it would have no effect on her own system. It only killed loup garou, not Magi.

When the brothers returned, Knight jacked his thumb over his shoulder. “Your turn,” he said. “Scrub it off good. Leave the door open.”

Brynn nodded her acquiescence, then gave them a wide berth on her path to the bathroom.

Knight helped Rook settle back into his chair, more than a little concerned by the glassy sheen in Rook’s eyes. The fear he’d sensed from Rook was disappearing behind the drugs in his system. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes, from the instant Knight had stepped into the office and heard the word “antidote,” had scared the holy hell out of him. Initial fear from both Brynn and Rook had battered his empathy, and he was only just starting to get out from under his own stifling sense of panic. Injecting Rook with the syringe had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do—trusting the word of a Magus that the contents would help Rook, rather than harm him.