Page 63 of Lord of the Dark

"Only if you answer. Why the armored beast?"

He stopped dead, turning to face me. "Because I’m not at full mobility today. Happy with that explanation?"

"Depends. What happened?"

"I swear to god, one day I’ll gag you just for ten minutes of peace."

Sounds tempting, I thought but kept quiet. Instead, I pressed on, voice deliberately innocent: "Were you with your Colombian friends last night?"

He paused mid-step, almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

"And is that related to your... physical limitations?" I pressed, relentless. "If you’d just tell me what happened, I wouldn’t have to drag every word out of you."

He stopped again, slowly removed his sunglasses, and pinned me with a sharp look. "Did you interrogate Vaughn yesterday?" The subject change was so abrupt I nearly laughed out loud. "He reached out to me. And frankly? I’m less than thrilled with what I heard."

"Deflection noted." I didn’t move, my gaze sliding over the Defender’s tinted windows, which swallowed every trace of light. "Just so you know—this car looks like a rolling abduction van. You’re aware of that, right?"

"Get in." The order was quiet. Unmistakable.

I opened the door—and froze. "Why the back seat?"

No reaction. No reply. He circled the vehicle in silence, entered from the opposite side, and let the door click shut like a full stop.

Confused, I leaned forward, peering inside. Luxurious. Spacious. And utterly sealed off from the world.

Alexander? Why the back seat?" I asked again, suspicion lacingmy voice.

He turned his head slightly, our eyes locking. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stretched out his arm, let his hand glide over the leather seat—and tapped two fingers beside him. Slow. Wordless.

I hesitated before finally opening the door and sinking into the backseat. My gaze swept the interior—black leather, windows tinted to near-opacity. Normal cars only had rear tint. This one was completely impenetrable from the outside. A mobile safe room. Or a cage.

He sat deep in his seat, angled slightly to the side, moving slower than usual. Subtly, he favored his left flank. My eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

No response. So I pressed harder: "And you’d better tell the truth, because I won’t back down."

An annoyed sigh escaped him as his head dropped against the headrest for a moment. "I got shot."

"What?" I gaped at him. "Are you insane? Why aren’t you in a hospital?"

He shrugged. "Because I don’t want painkillers or pity."

Concern shot through me, and before I could stop myself: "You should take this seriously, Alexander. A gunshot wound isn’t nothing."

A mocking smile curled his lips, as if I’d told a particularly stupid joke. "Really? I almost forgot how dangerous that could be. It’s only my first gunshot wound, after all." The sarcasm in his voice was so thick it smothered my worry instantly.

His tone was so arrogant that my concern burned into pure fury. "You know what?" I hissed. "Do whatever you want. Play the hero, bleed out on your damn backseat."

He leaned closer, gaze sharp. "Carter told me he’s been in contact with two Russians. Through one of his advisors."

My stomach twisted.

"And?"

"And I know them. They’re not people you mess with. Especially not when you’re as naive as Vaughn." His eyes locked onto mine. "He thinks he can prove he doesn’t need me. But it’ll cost him everything. And you right along with him." A hard stare. "So. What did you say to him?"

I leaned back slightly. "Me? Nothing important."

"Don’t lie to me." His voice turned razor-edged. "You said something that rattled him. What was it?"