Page 93 of Iron Willed Warrior

“Boss, I wouldn’t advise that. This one is tricky. She’s already proven?—”

“Leave. Make sure our ride is on schedule for the morning.”

Ryker stalked for the exit, giving me one last glare of warning before he shut the door.

I sat up, scooting as far back as the ankle cuff allowed me. Westwick leaned against the kitchenette counter, not yet daring to come close. He watched me for a while, eyes greedy like he owned me. He clearly thought he did.

Go ahead, I thought.Come over here and see what happens.

“You’re strong,” he said. “That’ll serve you well where we’re going.”

“Where’s that?”

“Don’t worry about those kinds of details. The only details you need to know are what your master tells you.”

“Mymaster?”

Fuck that, I almost said, but held my tongue.Find a way out of here. That was all that mattered.

He smiled broadly. It wasn’t like his smile in that photo with his wife and daughters. The man standing in front of me wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. “Ryker warned me you were spying on me. But I knew your agenda from the beginning. I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

I braced myself to hear my real name. To learn that he’d been playing us this entire time, and that he knew about the Protectors. Abouteverything.

“What do you know?” I forced out.

“That you’re attracted to power. Everyone is, but you were willing to put yourself out there to get my attention. I admire your spunk. Have to admit, you intrigue me, Brianna. You brought a knife to our private meeting. Why is that?”

I hid my exhale of relief. He didn’t know a damn thing about my true mission. The guy probably believed he was infallible, too smart and too careful to ever get caught. Overconfident. Andthatwas something I could use.

“I was afraid of you.” The man puffed up when I said that. He liked hearing it. “As I should have been, since you kidnapped me. That’s twisted. You’re sick.”

“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it. That’s not evil, that’s smart. You need to accept that you’re mine now. If you keep fighting, Ryker will keep punishing you. I guarantee you don’t want that. There’s nowhere to go, anyway. We’re in a secure location with an armed guard outside. Miles away from anyone else. To the outside world, you might as well be dead, and within a day or two, everyone will assume that’s what happened to you. A victim of your possessive boyfriend.”

I suddenly understood the meaning of Ryker drawing my blood. “You’re framing Cameron? Like, making sure he’s sent to prison for my murder? Ryker claimed he was already dead.”

Westwick shrugged. “By now, Cameron will be dead. Ryker’s men took care of it. He doesn’t have to be convicted of killing you for the world to believe it.”

Rage filled my throat. I wanted to scream. And more than anything, destroy the man sitting beside me.

Cole couldn’t be dead.Please, my heart begged.

He reached out to stroke the back of his finger down my cheek. I managed to keep still. Not react.

“I understand your initial shock at being taken. But I don’t think you’re going to give me any more trouble. You’re wiser than that. Especially when there’s a guard with an assault rifle right outside this door. You’re a practical girl. Aren’t you, Brianna?”

His hand moved lower, skimming my shoulder down to my side, where I ached from Ryker’s pressure-point jab.

Westwick continued along my leg, leaving goosebumps of disgust on my skin, until he reached my ankles. He produced a small folding knife and cut the plastic binding my ankles together. I imagined plunging that blade into his heart, but I didn’t move. He reached for my hands and cut the plastic tying those as well. The metal cuff remained on my left ankle, securing me to the cot. But otherwise, I was free. If the wordfreehad any relevance to my current situation.

Westwick folded the knife and placed it back in his pocket. The same pocket where he had the keys Ryker had handed him. “There’s still plenty I can offer you. If you behave.”

I lowered my eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m ready to give you what you wanted all along.”

“Which is?” I spit out.

Westwick stood up. He fit his hands into his pockets as he walked around the small room. “Your lifestyle brand wasn’t a bad idea, but it was missing the point. Real power isn’t about followers on social media or selling a cheap product. It’s access. You knew that, deep down. That’s why you wanted to get close to me. And it’s what I’m giving you. Access to rich, important men. If you’re good to them, they’ll be good to you.”

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