Page 16 of The Shape of my Scar (The Unbroken #1)

T hane

“Do I just bend over and cough, or you gonna take me to dinner first?” Thane drawled with a wink.

The mammoth of a guard didn’t blink. He just roughly shoved Thane’s arms out wider, hands raking along seams and stitching with the bored efficiency of a man used to violence.

Thane leaned in slightly, grinning. “Not even a bit of eye contact? You’re breakin’ me heart, mate.”

“Shut it,” the guard muttered, reaching toward Thane’s inner thigh.

“Oh-ho, let’s not get up close just yet. I like a bit of foreplay, love. Buy me a drink first, sweetheart. I like to feel special before yo suck my dick.”

That earned him an irritated grunt, but the man finished the rest of the search in silence—a little more rough but impersonal.

At least two scanners ran over him, chest to ankle, and one lingered a bit too long over his skull.

But Thane’s heart beat didn’t kick up. There was not even a twitch on the readings.

They didn’t know what was under his skin.

The bone-conduction mic nestled just behind his right ear had been custom-implanted years ago, invisible to standard sweeps.

This was a little something Lirian had cooked up after studying what the scanners picked up.

It looked like a calcified scar, and there wasn’t a metal signature or a heat bloom.

“Clear,” the guard muttered to his partner, stepping back.

Thane straightened, brushing off his sleeves like he’d just finished a lap dance.

“That’s it? No chocolate? No flowers?”

The first guard gave him a look like he wanted to plant a fist in his throat. Thane just winked.

They led him down the corridor, footsteps echoing off cold concrete, the air thick with industrial dust and cigarette smoke.

The warehouse office was tucked near the back, the desk piled high with paperwork and a laptop, with Malcolm perched behind it like a toad in an expensive suit.

He had been talking to for the dirt he dealt.

Trish was already there.

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, inscrutable as ever. Her eyes flicked up the moment he entered, but her expression did not change.

Thane could not help the flicker of interest. Her body was all clean lines and muscle, a good rack under a tight black T-shirt, dark cargo trousers slung low on lean hips.

He could see the curve of her biceps and the pale scar running down her forearm.

Her brown hair was cropped short, buzzed down to the scalp along both sides, longer on top and swept back in a way that made her sharp features even more dangerous.

Her brown eyes were flat and reflected her disinterest. She looked like someone whose anger had slowly calcified into contempt.

She didn’t speak or move, just stared at him like he was something she’d scraped off her boot. If looks could kill, Thane would’ve hit the floor.

He gave her a slow, deliberately insolent once-over. “Morning, darling. You’re glowing. Someone get you flowers after a fuck?”

Malcolm laughed, but Trish looked like she was watching grass grow.

“Didn’t know you swung both ways,” the guard behind him muttered.

Thane glanced back with a grin. “Oh, love, I am not picky. Try to keep up.”

The first guard shifted on his feet. “You done?”

“Not even close,” Thane said. “But let’s start with the boring bits. You gonna show me where the toilets are, or do I just piss in the corner?”

If possible, that only made Trish look more pissed off.

Meanwhile, Malcolm seemed pensive before he gave a satisfied chuckle and nodded at the guards by the door. “Out.”

The two muscle-heads exited without a word. The temperature in the room dropped the moment the door clicked shut behind them.

Just the three of them now.

Malcolm stepped around the desk, fingers steepled over his belly, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. “Look, I know what your lot are after. The Horsemen…you guys look legit on the outside but I have some contacts. You don’t get your hands dirty unless it’s worth your time.”

Thane said nothing for a few tense seconds. Then, as if he had lost a staring match with Malcolm, he said, “We’ve got high-end clients who expect us to be discreet. But they want guarantees. Young merchandise, yes, but they’ll want to sample before they sign on. You understand?”

Malcolm gave a slow nod.

Thane continued, “We’ll observe first. No commitment until I’ve seen the product and the handling. We won’t pay for damaged goods.”

That earned him a slow grin from Malcolm, white-toothed and gleaming.

“Fair enough. Playing it cautious,aye? It would be the smart thing to do.”

Thane unslung the backpack from his shoulder and set it down on the desk with a soft thud . He unzipped it, revealing bundles of cash, neat and banded, stacked in tight rows.

“Advance,” he said coolly. “Twenty-five percent as a gesture of goodwill. We’ll talk long-term after the first delivery. If you deliver what you say you can…well, we’ll see.”

Malcolm’s hands hovered, then dipped into the bag, pulling out one bundle, then another. His fingers trembled slightly as he counted, the crisp notes flicking under his thumb.

Greed crept into his eyes like cancer, slow at first, then overtaking everything. The smugness melted and what remained was something ugly and hungry.

He licked his lips. “Right. Right. Good faith. Yeah, I like this.”

Thane tilted his head, watching him with faint amusement. “We’re picky. The merchandise has to be fresh, untouched and undamaged. If I get even a whiff of bait-and-switch, then this deal is dead. And you must know our rep by now.”

Malcolm nodded too quickly. “Understood. We’re professionals, yeah?

We will do the proper vetting. Hey, Trish?

” He turned to Trish. “She’ll handle the details.

Trish, you and our new friend need to work together.

Make it smooth. None of your usual attitude, you hear?

We want this to grow, yeah? Let’s not cock it up with ego. ”

Trish didn’t move. She just stared at Thane with those flat brown eyes, as if she knew something wasn’t right.

Malcolm, still oblivious, just grinned. “Good. You’ll fit right in.”

Malcolm clapped his hands. “Right! You two’ll be working close. Trish handles the day-to-day. You get what you need from her, and she’ll let me know if you’re pulling your weight or swinging your dick. Trish will be watching you.”

Thane let his eyes trail over her slowly, lazily, from boots to collarbone. He didn’t bother to hide the smirk curling at his mouth. “Lucky me,” he drawled. “Didn’t realise I’d get a babysitter. Can I have a welcome fuck?”

Trish’s eye twitched, but she said nothing.

He stepped closer, slow enough to provoke but not enough to warrant a reaction. “You two fight often?” he asked Malcolm, eyes still fixed on her like she was an interesting bug under the microscope. “Or is this just the usual post-fuck tension?”

Malcolm barked a laugh. “She’s got a temper, our Trish. But she’ll warm up to you.”

Still, Trish stayed silent, eyes narrowed like a sniper looking down the scope.

Thane tilted his head, faux-casual. “Right, I’ll step out. Let you two settle this lovers’ spat without an audience, yeah?”

He turned and walked to the door, letting them watch him go.

He didn’t plant a bug—too risky at this point. They swept regularly, paranoid and thorough. But it didn’t matter. His listening device could pick up most of the ambient conversation within a certain range while filtering out the static.

Thane stepped out of the office, boots striking the concrete floor with quiet finality before letting out a slow breath.

The door clicked shut behind him and immediately, his ears were assaulted by a volley of foul language inside.

“Fucking dodgy, Mal,” Trish snapped, her voice sharp and slicing. “There’s something off about him. I don’t like his eyes. I don’t like the way he speaks. He’s too smooth, too fucking casual. He’s watching everything .”

“Calm down,” Malcolm said, his voice oily and patronising. “We vetted him. Word on the encrypted boards is his crew’s the real deal. They’ve moved dope silently for years.”

But Trish wasn’t having it. “And you believe everything you read online now? Great. Next, you’ll be getting financial tips from Reddit.”

Malcolm laughed. “We’ve got him on camera with money changing hands. The bag, the terms, his face…all of it. If he turns, we burn him. Besides, he won’t leave the compound in one piece.”

There was a pause.

Then Trish, lower now but still audible through the thin office walls. “Something’s wrong… I feel it.”

“Relax, it will be fine. Now come here and look at this.”

Outside, Thane kept walking.

He didn’t need to linger; he’d heard what he needed. The bone mic had picked it all up, too, transmitting it straight back to Lirian.

As he stepped into the cool air beyond the warehouse doors, the wind stirred his jacket.

His sensual mouth widened in a slow grin.

The game was on. And he always played to win.