Page 37 of Web of Lies

"Let her go." The words rip from her throat.

"You're killing her." I don't budge as my chest seethes with fury, blinding my vision.

"Purple." Our safe word tears from Riley's throat.

It hits me like a slap across the face, snapping me out of the raging storm in my mind.

In an instant, I let go of Chloé, who stumbles back.

Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open as she struggles to breathe, gasping for air.

She turns her attention to the man beside Riley.

His fists are clenched, and his knuckles are white, as if it takes every ounce of control not to attack me.

Through the mask, his eyes are locked on me like a predator ready to pounce.

"Let her go," Chloé chokes out, gagging on the air while holding her throat.

With fast, focused steps, he approaches Riley and starts untying her from the chair. Her limbs quiver as he helps her to her feet, steadying her with his arm as he escorts her to the door.

The moment the door shuts behind them, Chloé's eyes roll back. Her eyelids flutter shut, and her legs give out. I catch her before she hits the ground, slipping my arms around her and drawing her close to my chest.

"Who hired you?" I growl in her ear, lowering my voice. She hacks up a cough, her body trembling against mine. "Chloé," I say, tightening my hold. "Tell me who hired you." She leans into me, her body barely holding her up as she clutches my shirt as if it's the only thing keeping her on her feet.

"What do I get for it?" she rasps in a hoarse voice.

I let out a long breath. "You get to live. Because if you don't talk, then—" I lean closer and whisper, "Your next breath will be your very last." Her grip on my shirt tightens. Her shoulders jerk as a soft, choked sob leaks from her throat.

"It was a small, secret department within the city administration. They track down criminals by using other criminals." Chloé chokes out between snotty sobs.

I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to stay calm, even though my blood is boiling. "So, she's wanted by them? Why?"

"She was sent to find information on the Butcher," she chokes out, speaking incoherent nonsense. "But she failed." I figured that out by now.

I tilt my head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to give her one last push. "Come on, Chloé. Give me more. I know you're nosy; you always know more than you let on."

She sniffles and wipes her nose with her arm. "I don't know anything else, really."

I exhale through my nose and place my hand on the top of her head, holding her close and weaving my fingers through her hair.

"Okay," I whisper, my voice dipping into a purr.

"Good girl." She lets out another weak sob but leans into my touch, dripping with desperation for approval. Some things never change.

The door behind us creaks open again, and I turn my head toward the sound. Her masked partner steps back into the room.

"Hey, big guy," I say, keeping my voice calm but firm.

"Come here. You can have her back." He moves without hesitation, reaching us in a couple of long strides and taking her out of my hold.

She doesn't resist, leaning into him as her fingers curl into the front of his shirt.

Once he has her back in his arms, the tension drains from his shoulders, and he cradles her as if she will break at any moment.

I take a quick glance at him. He's about my height, just a bit leaner. The affectionate way he holds her speaks volumes. For a moment, I allow myself to hope that he is different from the others I've met who took advantage of her.

"You better treat that wild card well," I mutter under my breath as I tap his shoulder before stepping past him and heading for the door.

I stop and turn just enough to catch a glimpse of Chloé over my shoulder.

She presses her face against his chest and clings to him.

"If you ever mess with someone important to me again, I'll kill you, Chloé.

Don't forget that." She flinches but doesn't speak.

The guy holding her stares at me, but remains silent.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and head for the door.

Each of my footsteps echoes off the walls as I rush down the stairwell.

When I push the heavy door open, the hot night air hits me like a ton of bricks, thick and suffocating.

But that's nothing compared to the sight waiting for me.

Riley stands by the motorcycle, arms wrapped around herself, her body quivering and tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

Her eyes are wide and raw with emotion, as if she's barely holding herself together.

The moment the heavy metal door slams shut behind me, she jumps and turns in my direction. Her gaze finds mine. Her breath stutters and quickens, and then she lunges forward.

"You're the fucking Butcher?" Her voice cracks like a whip as she storms toward me, her hands balled into fists.

She comes to a hard stop right in front of me, her chest heaving.

"Did you have fun? Huh? Was it fun to make a fool out of me, to listen to me talk about him like some obsessed idiot?

Excuse me—about you? To top it all off, you offered to help me find him. How does that make sense?"

"Riley, calm down," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't tell me to calm down," she snaps, her voice cracking as tears fall from her eyes. "Not after finding out the truth like this." She furrows her brows in confusion. In fear. In betrayal.

I walk past her, take the leather jacket off the bike, and hold it out to her. "Put it on."

"I'm not leaving with you." She shoves my hand away, and I take a deep breath to stay calm.

"We need to talk."

"Do we? Then let's talk."

"Not here. You're not safe." I say with a sigh, bringing the jacket toward her again.

"But I'm safe with you? You're the fucking Butcher."

"For the love of God—" I snap, but a shrill scream from inside the building cuts me off.

We look at each other, our eyes wide, then shift our attention toward the building.

"We need to get out of here. Now," I say, as I grab Riley by the arm, force the jacket on her, and zip it up.

It's not perfect, but it's the best I can offer right now.

I guide her toward the bike, lift her onto the pillion, and grab the helmet.

"What was that?" Riley asks, still looking startled.

"Chloé is going mad. We need to leave before she changes her mind.

" I say. "You can yell at me as much as you want once you're safe.

" I put the helmet on her head and fasten it, then fling my leg over the bike.

With a twist of the key, the engine revs to life beneath us.

She wraps her arms around me, burying her hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt and gripping the fabric.

I guide the motorcycle back onto the street, kick the throttle, and speed off.