“You begged me to go down there and I nearly got myself killed saving those idiots. Why did you do it, pet?”
“I wanted to save their lives. Get off me, asshole.”
“How’d you know they were there? Why did you want to join my society? Who told you about them, pet?”
“Let me go, Emilio.”
He stares at me fiercely. I hold his gaze, looking back, heart racing.
He’s asking the right questions. I had nothing to do with that boat and really did find it thanks to sheer dumb luck, but that other question—that’s what he should be wondering.
Why did I join?
To get revenge. To kill him.
And I’m not sure he knows it yet.
But he will soon.
He holds me there, staring in my eyes. I breathe deep and wait for him to make up his mind—either let me go and accept the risk or break me here and now. Some wild, stupid part of me wants the punishment. I want to feel the pain and the pleasure. I want him to pin me down, spank me, humiliate me, get me off and make me come and moan his name. I want to feel how deep into the darkness he can drag me, except the idea of submitting to this monster twists my stomach.
I’m better than this.
I have to be stronger. If not for myself, then for Lucy.
“Somebody is pushing into my territory,” he says quietly, face inches from mine. “Somebody with funding. They had maps, radar, equipment. They had contacts. Once they wake up, they’ll try it again. A freak storm fucked them over, but we can’t hope for a freak storm every time. This is a problem, pet.”
“What do you want me to do about it? I’m nobody.”
He cracks a soft smile. “You’re somebody. You’re in the Calico Club.”
He finally releases me and steps back. I breathe hard and rub my wrists as he gives me some space, head tilted, considering. After several beats, he nods as if coming to a decision and jabs a finger in my direction.
“You’re coming on a run with me tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re heading to the coast. I’ll message my people—”
“No way. That’s insane. Some kids almost died—”
“You’re coming with me, pet. You want to remain a member of the Calico? Then you’ll do what I say. How far are you willing to go to prove yourself?” He sneers and shakes his head. “At least you won’t be alone. Everyone else ran the gauntlet themselves, but you’ll have me to make sure you don’t get dashed to bits on the rocks.”
“I don’t know anything about boats. I can’t just—I can’t leave with you.”
Because what will happen if he realizes who I am out in the open water?
Out where there won’t be anyone to save me if he decides to kill me and throw me into the ocean?
I could disappear so easily. Between Saint Parras and California, there will be hours of opportunity, miles and miles of empty ocean, and he could decide to toss me away at any moment.
If I go with him, it’s like walking into my pre-dug grave, lying in a box, and hoping he doesn’t dump earth over my casket.
“How far are you willing to go?”
The question oscillates in my brain. I’ve already gone further than I ever thought possible. I’ve already done things I never dreamed I’d do.
How far?