Page 81 of Forged in Fire

But that’s not who I want to be anymore. And I’m wasting time.

“Just a name, Veyra,” I finally get to the point because manipulation was never a game I excelled at. I’m better with direct action. “I think you know the one I’m looking for.”

“No…” Her breathing is labored, ragged. “No, you know I can’t do that. Client confidentiality—”

“Of course you can,” I interrupt smoothly. I tighten my grip on Rebecca’s ponytail, drawing her head back till she flinches and her teeth clench.

“Tell her that she can do it, Poppet.” I give her hair another tug, and her head bobs involuntarily.

“Honey… please.” Rebecca’s voice comes out strangled, desperate. “Please just do what he says.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Veyra’s voice comes through the phone, defeated and bitter. “Steele. His name is Malakai Steele.”

“There,” I say soothingly. “Was that so hard?” I pause, letting the relief settle in before I continue. “Now, exactly why would Malakai Steele want Kieran Asguard dead?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” Her voice has turned surly, resentful.

I tug Rebecca’s ponytail again, twisting the strands around my fingers with deliberate slowness. This time, I pull more firmly, drawing her head back until her throat is completely bared and her eyes are wide with terror.

For a predator, it should be an irresistible target. Oddly, there’s nothing about it that appeals to the dragon-touched part of me.

This woman isn’t my enemy. She’s just collateral damage in someone else’s war.

“Veyra!” Her voice comes out choked, barely recognizable. “Veyra, he’s going to hurt me!”

“I don’t know, okay!” Veyra sounds frantic now, all pretense of professional cool abandoned. “I swear to you, Riven! Our clients know they can rely on complete discretion. We ask no questions apart from what’s necessary to get the job done. That’s how we stay in business.”

I study Rebecca’s exposed throat, noting the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath the skin. She’s close to hyperventilating, her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps.

“You know, I could kill her in a dozen different ways before she could even scream,” I say softly. “I wonder if this is a situation where the mathematics of mercy might be applied. A blade between her ribs? Or something…. messier.”

I let that sink in for a bit.

“Please, Riven. Please don’t. I’ll do anything.” Veyra’s voice is broken. “But I swear to you, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” I say finally, releasing Rebecca’s hair. “I’ll buy it.”

She slumps forward, gasping, one hand flying up to her throat as if to protect it.

“Run along, Poppet,” I tell her, my voice almost gentle now.

She stares at me, blue eyes wide and uncomprehending.

“I saidrun,” I growl, letting a hint of menace creep into my voice.

Rebecca scrambles to her feet so fast she nearly trips over them. She backs away from me, putting distance between us with shaky, unsteady steps. For a moment, she just stands there staring at me like she can’t quite believe she’s still alive.

Then she turns and bolts.

I watch as she disappears down the wide avenue, dodging around startled dog walkers and joggers with the desperate speed of genuine terror. She runs like her life depends on it, ponytail streaming behind her like a banner of panic.

Not once does it occur to her to stop and ask for help. Not once does she try to flag down another jogger or scream for assistance.

Clever girl.

“Riven. Riven, are you there? What’s going on?” Veyra’s voice pitches through the phone, agitated and desperate. “Riven! What have you done to her?”

“She’s fine, Veyra,” I assure her, settling back against the bench and watching Rebecca’s retreating figure until she disappears around a bend in the path. “And she will stay fine.” I let that promise hang in the air for a long moment. “As long as you stay out of my world. And that means all of it. The contracts, the information brokering, the Guild connections. All of it. Do you understand?”