Derek arrived at Chloe’s cell already cold, already controlled, the kind of stillness that was far more frightening than rage. Declan followed close at his heels.
He crossed the cell to where Chloe hung in her silver chains, and without a word, he held up the tiny black chip between his thumb and forefinger, turning it so the dim light caught it.
"Tell me how this works," he said.
Chloe lifted her head. Her eyes found the chip, and Derek saw the flicker of recognition cross her face before she could hide it.
"And why," Chloe rasped, her voice cracked from days of thirst, "would I do that?"
"Because I’m asking."
"That’s not much of a reason." She managed a thin, bloodless smile. "Let me down from these chains. Give me water. A bed. Treat me like something other than meat on a hook, and perhaps I’ll tell you whatever you want to know."
Derek’s expression did not change. "You’re in no position to bargain."
"I’m in every position to bargain," Chloe said. "I’m the only one here who can give you whatever secrets you want."
"You’ll tell me regardless," Derek said flatly. "And you’ll get nothing for it. No water. No bed. No mercy. The only question is how long you draw it out first."
Chloe studied him for a long moment, weighing it, looking for the give in him and finding none. And something shifted behind her eyes. The self-preservation drained away, and what replaced it was uglier, and quieter, and far more dangerous.
She understood she had nothing left to trade. So she reached for the only power a cornered creature has left. The power to wound.
"All right," she said softly. "All right, then. I’ll tell you. For free. Because watching your face is going to be payment enough."
She licked her parched lips.
"It’s a transmitter," she said. "A listening chip. Crude little thing, really, but it does the job."
"How long has this been planted here?" Derek asked.
Chloe sighed. "A month, maybe longer. My mother’s been using them for years. You hide one somewhere a person keeps close to them, and it feeds you everything. Every word spoken in the room. Every plan. Every secret whispered in the dark." Her eyes glinted. "Somewhere like, oh. A wedding ring, perhaps."
Derek said nothing, but something in him went very still.
"My mother is rather gifted at it," Chloe went on, almost conversational now.
"Surveillance. Getting close. Planting things where they’ll never be found. And she’s especially good at it when she has someone on the inside helping her. Someone trusted. Someone who can carry the chip right into the heart of the enemy’s home."
She tilted her head. "Someone who slips out to meet her in secret, in disguise."
"Stop lying," Derek snarled. But even as he said that he couldn’t believe it himself.
"Am I?" Chloe smiled. "You don’t need me to connect those dots for you. You’ve already done it yourself. I can see it on your face."
Derek moved.
He crossed the cell and seized Chloe’s jaw, pressing it hard between his fingers, forcing her head up. His aura surged out of him all at once, filling the cell like a flood, and Chloe whimpered, tears spilling from her eyes as the crushing weight of it bore down on her.
"Do not," Derek said, his voice low and terrible, "mess with me, girl."
He held her there a moment longer, then released her with a small shove of disgust.
Chloe’s head dropped. She coughed, spat a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor, and then, impossibly, she laughed.
"You fool," she wheezed, lifting her face to him, her teeth red. "Did you honestly believe a werewolf could love you?"
Derek stiffened.
"Stop spewing nonsense!" Declan commanded.
Chloe laughed again, ragged and cruel. "Did you think years of blood and war and oppression just melt away because you put a shiny crown on her head? She played you like a fiddle, Lycan King. And the best part? You begged her to do it. You practically held the bow for her."
Her words landed exactly where she had aimed them, hitting his deepest insecurities about Kira and his past. But he didn’t allow a single flicker of emotion to show on his face.
Inside him, Leo snarled and thrashed, desperate to rip Chloe’s throat out, but Derek leashed his inner beast, keeping his hands tightly at his sides.
"Kira was always Rolf’s daughter," Chloe pressed on, sensing his weakness and twisting the knife.
"At the end of it all, that’s what she is. And she’s hated you, the Lycan King since the day she was old enough to understand what you did to our kind."
She licked her parched lips. "Every soft look, every tender word, and every sweet little moment you treasured, were just part of a longer con."
She smiled. "A man like you should have known better than to let a little werewolf girl play mind games with him. Kira is never going to love you. She would only ever love one man."
At the mention of another man, Derek’s pupils suddenly dilated for a fraction of a second.
Chloe caught it. Of course she did. She had been hunting for it.
"Oh," she breathed, delighted. "I see. She didn’t tell you about Scott, did she?"
Derek said nothing.
"No, I didn’t think so." Chloe spat another mouthful of blood and grinned up at him through it. "Scott is the only man your precious queen will ever love. The only one she’s ever wanted. You were a means to an end, Lycan King. Kira has always been a good actress."
She chuckled, low and mocking. "Goddess, but Lycans are gullible creatures. I almost feel sorry for you." Her grin widened. "Almost. Don’t worry. I’ll be right here, hanging on my little hook, for the whole show."
Derek looked at her for a long moment. Then he turned, and walked out of the cell.
He did not respond to the mockery, or tried to defend himself. He did not strike her, or unleash his beast, or give her the reaction she was so desperately fishing for. He simply went quiet, a deep and terrible quiet, and walked away.
Declan didn’t say a single word either; he just cast one final, murderous glance at Chloe before following the King out.
***
A few hours later.
Olivia’s car drew close to the borders of Dravengard at last, and she finally pulled over and reached across to remove the blindfold she had tied around Kira’s eyes.
Kira blinked rapidly against the sudden influx of the late afternoon light, rubbing her sore eyes, and turned to stare at her.
"Why blindfold me?" she asked. "After you went to all the trouble of getting me out?"
"Because," Olivia said, settling back into her seat, "as much as Brian is a complete idiot and a terrible husband, I don’t want you leading Derek’s royal execution squad straight back to his hiding spot."
She slid her gun back into the dashboard compartment and turned to face Kira fully. "Brian is strictly mine to deal with now, Your Highness. Consider this entire rescue a favour from me."
Kira stared at her. She had honestly thought Olivia was far too timid to ever stand up for herself. "I didn’t think you had it in you, Olivia. Truly."
Olivia smiled and shook her head.
"Well, I’ve always wanted to be an investigative gamma for the pack, you know," she said. "But my family forced us into this marriage. So I’m taking Brian on as my very first case."
Her smile turned wry. "So, leave him to me. I mean it. Go and be with your King, and be our queen, in peace. Let me handle my own husband. It’s the only favour I ask of you in return."
Kira sighed and stared at Olivia for a moment before she nodded once, pushed the door open, and stepped out at the edge of Dravengard territory.
Olivia gave her one last nod, threw the car into reverse, and drove away into the distance without looking back.
Kira stood there a moment, then turned and broke into a run, sprinting toward the high stone borders of Dravengard, towards the patrol of gammas stationed at the iron gates.
They turned at the sound of her, and every one of them went rigid, staring at her as though they had seen a ghost risen from the grave.
Then, all at once, they dropped into deep bows.
"Your Highness!"