Page 97 of The Vagabond

“This isn’t over,” he spits, low and venomous, pointing at me. “You only get round one.”

I don’t look away. “Don’t forget to take your ear with you,” I singsong after him.

He storms out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

And then it’s just me. And the devil in the suit. The silence stretches. Suffocates. Then the man exhales, almost thoughtfully.

“I apologize for him,” he says. “He was always a weak one.”

He crouches in front of me, calm, composed, like he’s chatting over coffee.

“But I am not weak, Maxine. I’m not careless. And I donotmake mistakes.”

His smile is slow. Final.

“So, let’s try this again. Shall we?”

39

MAXINE

The man adjusts the cuffs of his tailored coat like this is a meeting, not the scene of my imprisonment. His eyes are cold and empty as he regards me.

“Well,” he purrs, smooth as sin, “the golden goose returns.”

I say nothing. My throat’s raw, dry.

Hatred howls so loud inside me it drowns everything else.

My vision sharpens, the pit in my gut hardening into something cold, jagged, lethal.

He lingers beside me, voice slick with mock affection, like a knife tracing skin.

“You’ve caused quite the stir, Maxine. We thought you’d learned your place after Kadri.”

I hold his stare. Unblinking. I refuse to look away.

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice raspy.

A smile creeps across his face like a stain. “You were one of our finest investments. Went for a record price. You should be proud.”

Pride. That word burns in my ears. I swallow back the bile in my throat.Not one of my finest moments,I want to tell him. I curlmy lip and spit the blood at his feet—the tang of Zack’s ear still coating my tongue like poison.

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“Ah,” he says. “The Feds came knocking on your door. And you should know that we don’t like loose ends, Maxine,” he says, standing again. “You should have disappeared quietly. Faded into whatever sad little life you could scrape together after you escaped. Yet…” He waves a hand in the air. “Look at you—back in the city like a goddamn siren, begging for chaos to find you.”

I swallow the burn rising in my throat. He thinks I’m the same girl they broke. The same body they passed around and branded with silence. But he has no idea who I’ve become since then. No idea that pain like mine doesn’t just sit in the dark—it evolves. Sharpens. Grows in resentment.

He talks like he’s the storm, and his threats are thunder. But all I hear is his fear. A man grasping at control that’s slipping through his fingers. The Feds are closer than ever to dismantling the Aviary. He wants me to shrink. To beg. To play the part of the good little ghost girl who disappeared like she was supposed to. But I’ve tasted freedom. I’ve felt love in the arms of a man who would burn the world for me. I’ve crawled back from the edge more times than I can count. And I’ll do it again.

He may have dragged me back into the dark—but I didn’t come alone. I came ready.

“You’re scared,” I whisper. “Big men with small dicks and smaller consciences. All of this,” I tug at my restraints, “because you’re terrified of a girl who’s found her voice.”

His eyes darken. He moves fast. The back of his hand cracks across my cheek with a sharp snap, the force rocking my head to the side. Pain blossoms through my jaw. Copper floods my mouth again. I taste blood. I taste rage. But I don’t cry or scream. Instead, I smile. Because that’s what breaks them, more than anything. The refusal to shatter.

“I see you’ve changed,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ve developed a bit of an attitude.”

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