Page 68 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
Her words hang in the air for an instant before she pulls her hand away and backs off, pushing past the others with a determined gesture.
“Out. All of you,” she snaps, leaving no room for argument.
Alias breathes out deeply, the sound heavy with relief as he nods and brushes a hand over his buzzed head.
“I’ll fetch your woman for you,” he says quietly before turning and heading for the exit.
The sound of the tent flap shifting barely registers as the others leave, their footsteps fading into the night. My focus narrows to the one person who hasn’t moved. Callum remains exactly where he is, leaning casually against the pole with his arms folded. The scar over his brow pulls slightly as his expression morphs into that familiar, infuriating blend of mirth and disapproval.
My frustration boils over as I cross my arms, locking my gaze onto his.
“Do you ever actually do what you’re told?” I snap.
Callum shrugs, tilting his head as if the question doesn’t even warrant a response.
“I have to admit, it’s fascinating watching you dig your own grave.”
My jaw tightens, his words gnawing at me. Callum pushes off the pole and takes a slow step closer.
“She’ll turn on you the moment she realizes it’s all a lie,” he says, his tone casual, almost conversational, but every word strikes like a hammer.
I didn’t need to ask who he meant.Vanessa. She’d been clinging to me since the night we shared a bed a century ago. It had meant nothing to me, but to her, it was everything. She had warmed my bed while I took her body, nothing more. Yet she had clung to that night, her obsession growing with every rejection, every denial. Now, I needed her, and that made her threatening.
“I’m giving her what she wants.”
Callum’s eyes gleam cruelly.
“No, you’re not,” he says, drawing out each syllable and savoring it.
Before I can respond, he turns and strides toward the tent flap. He doesn’t need to linger; he’s said exactly what he wants to say. The flap swings shut behind him, leaving his words hanging in the air.
My jaw tightens as I turn back to the map, my fingers gripping the edges of the table until the paper crinkles beneath them. He’s right. Of course he is. This is a dangerous game, one where every move comes with a price I can’t predict. Vanessa is a tool, but tools have a way of cutting their masters if handled recklessly.
The weight of it all presses down on me—the plan, the lies, the constant risk of losing control. But there’s no going back. Not now.
I force myself to focus on the map, trying to push Callum’s words from my mind, but they linger, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. He always knows how to find the weakest point and drive the blade in deep. And he’s always right.
When the flap opens again, I turn, bracing myself.
Vanessa steps inside, her long hair falling over her shoulder, her face softened only by the wicked curve of her lips. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, confidence radiating from her like heat from a bonfire.
“You wanted to see me, Commander?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery and temptation.
She stands near the entrance, her aura filling the tent, savoring the moment as her gaze sweeps over me like I’m prey. I don’t respondright away, gritting my teeth as I keep my eyes on hers. She thrives on this—the charged silence, the way she can pull a reaction from anyone if she waits long enough.
Her smirk deepens as I stay silent, her head tilting slightly as though she can already read my thoughts. The air seems to grow heavier as she moves slowly toward me, the sound of her boots against the ground adding to the tension blooming between us. She stops just out of reach, her mouth widening into a sly smile as her gaze lingers on my face before trailing down my body.
“You’re so tense,” she whispers, her voice dripping with mock concern. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing me again. Or have you forgotten how much you used to?”
Vanessa doesn’t wait for a response. She closes in, resting a long, manicured nail against my chest, sharp and teasing as it trails downward, scraping lightly over the fabric of my coat, dragging over my ribs and down my stomach. Her nail pauses at my belt as she tilts her head, looking up at me through her lashes.
Vanessa’s lips curve into a wicked smile. Her dark eyes flick back to mine, daring me to react, to break the control I hold so tightly.
“Still pretending, are we?” she murmurs, her breath brushing against my skin. “You’ve always been so good at lying.”
Before she can say more, my hand shoots out, gripping her throat with a force that silences her instantly. Her lips part as she gasps—not in fear, but in delight. Her smirk doesn’t falter as she leans into my touch, her breath hitching as my fingers press harder.
“It’s been a while since you touched me like this,” she purrs, her voice laced with satisfaction. I force my expression to remain cold, detached, though her words grate against my nerves.
