“She commands some of them, but we aren’t sure who.”
They continue discussing options and a strategy, until Larissa brings up her proposition.
“She looks the part,” one of the men says. “Are you Afghani?”
I swallow hard. “I am. And I’m willing to do what it takes.”
“Can you play the part of frightened slave?” another asks. I tremble when I answer, because I know the part of frightened slave all too fucking well.
“I can.”
“They’ve captured half a dozen more women as of tonight,” one man says. “Bringing their current total to two dozen.”
“Do they count them?” Stefan asks, his expression grim.
“Yeah. We’ll have to take one and hide her.”
I stifle a groan. This is starting to make me a little nervous.
“Okay, okay, so… let me get this straight,” I say. “The new shipment comes in and I go in as one of them. We somehow sneakily hide one, so they don’t mess up on the count. I find out what I can, and report back to you.”
“Christ,” Stefan says.
“You’ll have a comm device,” Larissa says. “Something in your ear if you need to talk to one of us.”
“And a weapon,” Stefan says grimly.
“That’s too dangerous,” one of the men says, but Stefan turns on him so furiously that the man slams his mouth shut and stops talking.
“Brother, he’s right,” Demyan says gently. “She can’t carry. Far too fucking dangerous.”
“Fine, then,” Stefan grits out. “I’m her weapon.” He stands to his full height, and all the men in the room look up to him. He’s taller than most, and with the silver in his beard and massive stature, he looks like a Viking God. Are they all looking at him adoringly, or is that just me?
“You be my weapon,” I say, tapping his arm. “I love that idea.”
Larissa catches my gaze with twinkling eyes.
“Son of a bitch,” Stefan grits out, but we manage to continue our plans despite his blustering and anger. It’s the only plan, and it has to work.
We finally get out of the meeting, and I’m taken with Larissa to get outfitted for my undercover job. Stefan follows, scowling at his phone. “Motherfucker,” he whispers.
“What?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
But he won’t meet my eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. Then to Larissa, “How much further?”
“Oh, just up ahead, Stefan,” she says, but he’s impatient and irritable. “We should get her there within the hour, so she can quickly amass with the others before any of the guards begin to recognize faces.
“Fine,” he snaps. Thankfully, she’s used to grumpy, bossy men, because she barely reacts at all.
“Here, Taara,” Larissa says. We made it to a storage room of sorts. She pulls out a white sheath from a pile in the closet. “You’ll have to wear this.” She can’t hide the way her lip turns down in disgust.
Stefan grabs it. “This? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Stefan, you agreed to this,” Larissa warns. “Can you please just try to get used to the idea?”
“No, I will not fucking get used to—”
I place my hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. “Daddy. Please.” That softens the worry line at his brows, but he doesn’t speak. I know he’s concerned, but is there something else going on that I don’t know about?
I actually wonder for a moment if I mean to him what I hope I do. Or has this all been just a game he’s been playing? Gone is the tenderness I’ve come to expect, gone the gentle touch and soft words. I can still feel the residual effects of our lovemaking this morning, but it seems so long ago.
Stefan’s phone rings, and he scowls at it before he answers. His eyes come to me before he turns away, cursing.
What the hell?
“What is it?” I whisper. “Stefan?”
But he turns away from me and doesn’t answer. Larissa won’t meet my eyes when I look to her for answers, but instead helps me into the sheath.
“Come, Taara,” she says. “Let Stefan take the call.”
But my gut instinct says something is off. Is he hiding something from me?
I’d convinced myself that I mattered to him. That he cared. But now…
In minutes, I’m ready. Wearing the simple sheath with no makeup, no jewelry, it’s a stark reminder of my past and the women who’ve been in this position before me. I swallow hard, determined to give it my best. For me. For my mother. For every woman who’s been mistreated or abused. For Stefan and his brotherhood.
“How does she look?” Larissa asks him.
He only grunts in reply, then turns away, as if disgusted with me. My heart sinks. I hate this. God, I hate it so much.
“Stefan…” my voice trails off as I look to him for something, anything to give me reassurance that I still mean something to him. How could I have fallen in love with a man like him? Someone so brutally possessive and fierce, who can turn like this? He’s unpredictable, and that scares the hell out of me.