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I force myself to meet his gaze, fighting the urge to shrink away. His eyes are the color of a winter sky—cold, gray, and utterly devoid of warmth. His gaze strips away my defenses, peeling back layers of hard-earned armor, exposing me to his scrutiny.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I rasp, hating how weak my voice sounds. “Really nails that ‘abandoned crack den’ vibe.”
Wolfe’s lips curl into a smile, sharp and cold, but his eyes remain distant, untouched by the expression. He moves further into the room, each step measured and deliberate. The cracked concrete remains silent beneath his polished shoes as if even the decay refuses to challenge him.
“I thought you mightappreciatethe—nostalgia.” He runs a finger along the table’s scarred surface, grimacing at the dust it collects. “So many memories in places like this, wouldn’t you agree?”
My heart hammers against my ribs, but I force my face to remain impassive.Don’t let him see how much this affects you. Don’t give him that power.
“Yeah, well, I’ve stayed in worse.” I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “Your hospitality could use some work, though. No mint on the pillow?”
Wolfe chuckles, the sound sending ice down my spine. “Oh, Ember. Still so defiant. I’ve missed that fire of yours.”
Missed?
He reaches into his jacket, and I tense, expecting a weapon. Instead, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes—the same cheap brand I used to scrounge for on the streets. With deliberate slowness, he lights one, the flame of his gold lighter dancing in those winter-gray eyes.
“Now then,” he says, exhaling a plume of smoke that hangs between us. “Let’s talk about old times, shall we? And perhaps—your future.”
The unspoken threat in those words settles in my gut like lead. I curl my fingers into fists, nails biting into my palms. Whatever game Wolfe is playing, I can’t let him win. Blaze’s life depends on it.
Wolfe scans the barren room and leans casually against the crumbling wall. He crosses one ankle over the other, cigarette balanced between his fingers. The ember flares bright in the dim light as he takes a slow drag. The silence between us thickens, turning heavy and suffocating.
“Tell me,” he finally says, tapping ash onto the floor. “What do you know about Blaze’s team?”
My mind races.
Keep it vague. Give him nothing of substance.
“Not much.” I shrug, leaning back against the wall. “Just that they’re good at what they do.”
“And what, precisely, do they do?” Wolfe’s tone is light and conversational, but his eyes are razor-sharp.
I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow as it feels. “Save damsels in distress. Though if they’re supposed to rescue me, I’d say things aren’t exactly going according to plan. Oh, that’s right. They weren’t rescuing me. They were rescuing Aria. You should ask her. I have no clue what they do.” I tilt my head, sarcasm dripping from every word. “She’s fine, by the way. Back safely in Daddy Dearest’s arms… While I’m slumming it with you.”
Wolfe’s lip curls into a smirk. “Indeed. But surely you must have noticed something during your time with them. Their methods, their resources… Anything unusual?”
The unlit candle on the table catches my eye. I focus on it, grounding myself. “I was a little preoccupied with not dying. Didn’t exactly have time for a Q&A session.”
“No?” Wolfe leans forward, ashing his cigarette again. “Not even a glimpse of their tech? Their weapons? Come now, Ember. You’ve always been so observant.”
I meet his gaze, injecting just the right amount of confusion into my voice. “Tech? They had guns, if that’s what you mean. Beyond that…” I shrug again. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not versed in military gadgets.”
“You’re protecting them.” Wolfe studies me for a long moment, smoke curling around his head like a halo.
It’s not a question.
“Protecting them?” I scoff, gesturing around the room. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to protect anyone right now.”
He nods slowly, a predator considering its prey. “Perhaps not. But loyalty… That’s always been your weakness, hasn’t it? Even when misplaced.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
“Loyalty’s only a weakness to people who don’t deserve it,” I say, my voice low.
Wolfe’s eyes flash with something—anger? Respect?
It’s gone too quickly to tell. He stands, smoothing his jacket.