Page 114 of Change

Jameson’s slow progress stopped, and he glanced at one of the people beside him.

The bespectacled man touched his glasses, glancing nervously between the wolf shifter and the onmyoji. “She’s telling the truth.”

Jameson seemed to contemplate their words, but continued to frown at me. My body ached, and I shivered despite the warm—but slightly damp—cloak from Gloria that I still wore. And there was something in his gaze that caused my breathing to slow and my heart to race in fear.

“I don’t know,” he mused, the first echoes of frustration leaking into his expression. “I could have sworn I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

“I think you’re delusional,” Gloria said sharply. “Just like if you think you’re going to get any information out of me.”

Jameson shot Gloria a strange look, then closed the distance between the two of us. I had nowhere to go, and so couldn’t do more than silently gasp as his arm shot down to me, and he grasped my still-bruised jaw.

His fingers felt like a white-hot iron against my skin, and my thoughts seized in terror.

“Hm…” he murmured, eyes roaming over my face. “I’m certain I know you.”

Across the room, a light flickered from the corner of my vision. Radiating from the black mirror hung beside our prison door. But despite it briefly capturing my attention, I couldn’t focus on the distraction.

The way Jameson watched me caused dread to pool in my stomach.

My mouth was numb and my skin cold. A slow haze was moving over my thoughts. Some distant part of me knew I was going into shock.

And it wasn’t anything to do with the man in front of me, as intimidating as he was. But rather, from the feel of the shifters watching me in the background with their hungry eyes. Whatever Jameson might do—nothing would compare to that.

“Which family do you belong to?” The tone of his question briefly caused my ire to rise—I didn’t, after all, belong to anyone. But as Jameson’s fingers dug into my jaw, I couldn’t respond; my speech had been stolen from me.

“Answer me,” he prompted, shaking my head slightly.

I wanted to. The promise of pain was urging me to speak. If only to stave off what might happen next.

But my tongue wouldn’t listen—my mouth refused to form the words.

Fire and pain bore down on me, a promise of more to come. And in the background, there was no respite. Only hungry eyes ready to throw me back into darkness.

I couldn’t talk, no matter how much I wanted.

“Dubois,” Gloria answered, her voice a thread of respite pulling my thoughts from the darkness.

Jameson’s attention tore from me, burning into the older woman.

Her expression was carefully blank as her eyes met mine. “And she can’t answer you; she’s mute.”

Tears filled my vision as the harsh reality of my situation slammed into me. Of course, Gloria was playing to something that she and Ada had thrown out in a panic: that I couldn’t speak at all. But the fact remained that at the moment, this was completely real.

“Dubois?” Jameson’s grip loosened somewhat as the fierce intensity of his expression slackened. “Who?”

I had no idea what he was asking, but apparently Gloria did.

“She’s Bryce Dubois’s wife,” Gloria said.

“Impossible.” Jameson frowned. “I’ve known Declan and his family my entire life. It’s always been obvious that Bryce Dubois is gay.”

“They’re fae—they’re fluid in these matters.” Gloria shrugged. “And they’re also a high-ranking family. This could be a political marriage. I don’t know.”

“Political?” He scrutinized me again and his fingers tightened, but it was still Gloria he addressed. “What’s her maiden name?”

“Brosnan.”

I fell as he suddenly dropped me, backing up and staring at me with wide eyes.