Page 101 of Savage Sacrifice
“No isn’t an option,” he explains, and I gulp, fully aware that there’s never truly an option with this man.
“It’s always an option,” she insists, standing firm, and he shakes his head.
“You’re trying my patience. Shut her up before I do it for you,” he warns, glaring at me, and I shrug, despite the tendrils of ice shooting down my spine.
“You won’t go near her, and she’s her own person with her own mind. If she wants to hand it to you, she can.”
He grinds his teeth, his frustration palpable once again as he rolls his shoulders back. “The deal.”
“It’s a no,” Polaris repeats, and he grunts.
“I don’t think it is.”
“How can you be so sure?” she goads, giving him the opening he was waiting for.
“Don’t ask him that, he always knows he’s wagering what you want,” I grind out, and her eyes narrow on the man before us.
“Which is?”
The vicious smile that curls his lips threatens to bring me to my knees.
“There is nothing you haven’t done that I haven’t known about. That goes for you too, Polaris,” he states, glancing between us. “Would you like me to start at the beginning or cut to the chase?”
What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?
“Cut to the chase!” Polaris snaps, her nails digging into my hand so hard I’m certain there will be blood.
It’s almost as though he pouts, disappointed by the fact that she doesn’t want to hear his elaborate story, but my blood runs cold as he opens his mouth, placing the offering on the table.
“I know what your sacrifice is.”
34
POLARIS
“How?” Asher blurts immediately, making my heart surge even faster.
I feel like I can’t breathe, just like every other time I’ve been in this man’s presence. His energy radiates around the room, dominating everything, but for the first time, there’s an edge of desperation.
He’s an enigma, a true mystery hidden deep beneath layers of leather and his monstrous mask. I’m never going to understand him or his actions, but I’m desperate to understand how this man knows the things that he does. It’s like he’s got cameras everywhere, or spies lurking around every corner. Maybe even both.
The elongated nose of his mask leans from side to side as he tilts his head, really assessing Asher, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Not because of his intense presence, but because I can sense the shift in Asher.
He was right. I’ve never known Asher to be wrong, but it’s just been proven in this moment. The Crow always knows what to offer to get you to do his bidding. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s willing to take whatever deal The Crow has to offer for that knowledge.
We all know this is vital, but having it within reach is something else. It once again attaches the invisible puppetry strings to Asher’s limbs, making him forever The Crow’s minion.
“What’s the deal?” Asher reiterates when The Crow doesn’t offer any insight.
I bring my free hand to his arm, squeezing just as tightly as my fingers are laced with his.
“Asher,” I breathe, but he doesn’t turn to me. It’s as if he doesn’t hear me.
The Crow smirks, fueling the rage inside of me because he knows he’s causing tension; he likely thrives on it.
“I said, what’s the deal?” Asher bites, desperate for the knowledge, and The Crow rocks back on his heels.
In a last-ditch attempt to interject and give Asher a moment to actually think this through, I try to take a step forward, but Asher makes it impossible with his vice-like grip. Rolling my eyes, I wag a finger in The Crow’s direction.
