Page 136 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
The dog’s jaws worked faster, growling as if she could sense Nia’s panic.
“Jade, no,” Nia said again, her voice softer but desperate. “Go for help. Please.”
Jade whined, pausing just long enough to nuzzle her face against Nia’s cheek in a quick, reassuring lick. The dog turned and bolted into the shadows, her pale body disappearing into the maze of sawdust and feathers.
The door to the office opened with a labored creak.
The three men descended the stairs, their eyes fixed on her. Nia’s anger flared. At the front was Jackson Runner, the CEO of this hellhole. He looked every bit the part—well-groomed and dressed in crisp, clean clothes that screamed professionalism despite the filth of the setting. Behind him loomed Gregor, the big, imposing man she’d fought before. He might have been terrifying to most, but Nia knew better. She’d kicked his ass once, and she could do it again. And then there was Raymond Bell, the man from the bar. He lagged behind the others, his face pale, his eyes darting around nervously. Of the three, he was the only one who looked scared shitless—probably because he was a regular.
Whatever he’d seen when they took her from her home had clearly left its mark.
Gregor was the first to speak. “You didn’t lock the cage?” He rounded on Raymond, glaring.
Raymond flinched, his hands shaking as he stammered, “I-I did!”
“Clearly not!” Gregor snapped, his massive form radiating frustration.
Nia smirked, tilting her head as if she found the whole situation amusing. “Well, well, well. Three grown men against little old me. What’s the matter? Afraid?”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed, but before he or the others could reply, she lunged forward. The ropes dug into her skin, pulling taut, but the sudden movement was enough to make all three men flinch. Their uncoordinated reactions were pitiful, and a bark of laughter burst from her lips.
“Pathetic,” she shook her head, smiling wryly.
Jackson’s face twisted in anger. “We’re done with your games, Nia. You think you can threaten us like this, do business like this, and there are no consequences?”
“Boo freaking hoo.” Nia shook her head. “You’ve all got more money than you know what to do with and you’ve lied, cheated, and stolen to get it. I’m just trying to level the scales.”
“The scales aren’t yours to balance!” Gregor snapped, his deep voice echoing through the cavernous room, startling a few chickens.
The air thickened with heat as flames erupted in his fists.
Nia eyed the fire with icy defiance. “You think you’ll get out of paying for what you’ve done by threatening me? Please.”
Let them try.
Jackson’s mouth curled into something smug. “You think this is about money?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re still playing small, Nia.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “We’re going to expose how Charis really operates.”
He tossed a black notebook at her feet, its pages full of names and amounts they donated.
Nia’s breath caught.
Her notebook.
Shit.
Jackson must have seen the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. He grinned. “You think people won’t care that their beloved foundation was funded by people like us?” He gestured toward Gregor and Raymond. “You think the public won’t be interested in how you convinced us to donate, how charitable the Duchess of Charity really is? The blackmail, the extortion, the threats?” His voice dripped with mock admiration. “You’re not a saint, sweetheart. You’re just better at hiding your dirt.”
Nia forced herself to keep her expression neutral, even as a nauseating panic clawed up her throat. Charis wasn’t a cleanly run business, not in the traditional sense. But it worked. She’d made it work. What did it matter if she coerced corrupt businessmen, threatened to expose politicians, twisted the arms of criminals, and occasionally partnered with them, if in the end it funneled money where it was actually needed?
But now…
For the first time, she saw it differently.
She’d always been willing to take risks—and pay any consequences incurred. But this wasn’t just about her. If word about their funding got out, it wouldn’t just ruin Charis—it would destroy Ivy’s reputation. It would cast a shadow over every person the foundation had ever helped, turning their success stories into scandals. It would ruin future projects, the space she and Ivy had envisioned for young supernaturals.
It would hurt Lochlan.
And Wulfric.
