Page 83 of Emperor of Corruption

Greyson chuckles. “That’s funny. Cain didn’t tell me you’re a funny man.”

Cain, the new leader of the Nighthawks, is an absolute sociopath and someone I wouldn’t trust to polish my shoes—he’d plant an explosive in them if he were paid well enough—but he’s extremely good at what he does. Rumor has it, he’s reinstated an ancient tradition of the Nighthawks which enables every assassin to choose awoman for themselves. A woman they capture, bring to their fortress, train, and keep. That could be who was calling out Greyson’s name. I don’t care enough to inquire, though the idea of taking a certain someone captive and training them up to be what I want them to be is tempting.

No. Lyra isn’t worthy of me.

Or maybe you’re the one who’s not worthy of her…

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Greyson says amiably, though he sounds distracted.

“Was it?” I inquire.

“No, not particularly. On that note, I have shit to do. Anytime you want to part with another 250k for a hit, give me a call.” He hangs up without further ado.

The car pulls up in front of my apartment, and the driver promptly opens the door for me. I gaze at the skyscraper I’ve called home for many years, feeling a pit form in my soul. Even though I haven’t had Lyra here often, I don’t like the idea of staying here without her.

Tough shit. I’ll fuck her every free moment I get next week, and that ought to be enough for me to be able to let her go.

I hope.

Chapter Thirty

Lyra

The Saturday of my trip with Killian comesfartoo soon. I double-check with Sarah about taking a week away from work to travel—she reminds me that Iwillbe working, just in a different capacity.

If only she knew that my work typically entails taking Killian’s cock however and whenever he wants to give it, I don’t think she’d be quite so eager to hand me over to him.

Or maybe she would. In either case, I know what to expect this week. Killian’s made it abundantly clear that my sole purpose will be to act like a blowup doll and serve as his shadow.

My objective will be quite different; I need to find something on him toreallypull my expose together. I may not hate Killian as much as I did when this ordeal began, but my self-preservation instincts still override my strange draw to him. Ihaveto be free of him, even if the thought of never seeing him again makes me feel hollowed out, like someone rummaged around in my chest cavity with a spoon and decided to scoop out some integral pieces of me.

I pack on Friday night, bringing sensible work clothes—long skirts, blouses, and slacks. I also throw a nice dress into the mix for any high-end events I might be attending, but I don’t go out of my way to pack anything sexy that’ll encourage Killian to pounce on me.

He doesn’t require any encouragement.

Locke meets me outside my apartment building early on Saturday morning. He’s wearing a suit and sunglasses; he jerks his chin at me in greeting.

We haven’t really spoken since the night he saved me. He’s driven me to see Killian, and I know Killian’s told Locke to stalk me, but he’s good enough at his job that I never notice him. Locke takes my suitcase from me and puts it in the trunk while I slip into the backseat of the car, twining my fingers together.

Locke gets into the front and puts the car into drive. I worry my lower lip between my teeth.

“Locke?” I say after several minutes.

“Miss Stewart,” Locke replies flatly.

“I… wanted to thank you. For that night in the alleyway. I appreciate you looking out for me.”

He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “I was just doing my job.”

The subtext is clear; he doesn’t give a shit about my wellbeing, he’s just following orders. Nevertheless… “Still, I owe you my gratitude. That night would’ve gone down very differently if you weren’t there.”

“If you want to thank someone, thank Killian,” Locke replies. “He’s the one who’s obsessed with you.”

Butterflies take flight in my chest. “I don’t think he’sobsessedwith me.”

“Then you aren’t paying attention.”

I swallow. “I won’t see him after this week.”