Styx folded his arms over his chest. The woman seemed to forget she was his prisoner. He would be the one in charge of any interrogations.
"What do you recall of last evening?" he demanded.
She blinked at his abrupt tone, her slender shoulder rising in a vague shrug.
"I was working at the bar and some man with his two goons started to harass me." Her eyes narrowed. "I was on my way to the storeroom when you ... did whatever it is you did to me."
"There will be no lasting harm."
"Easy for you to say."
He ignored her rebuke. "What did the men want of you?"
She paused before realizing that she had no choice but to answer. "To talk."
"About what?"
"I don't know. What do you want?"
He gave a low hiss at her elusive answers. As a rule his reputation preceded him. Most intelligent creatures did whatever necessary to please him. They had no desire to discover for themselves if the rumor of his cold ruthlessness was fact or Fiction.
They were wise.
"Did you recognize them? Have they approached you before?"
"I've never seen them before in my life."
"And you have no idea why they would be interested in you?"
"No."
He studied her pale features for a long moment. He didn't believe she was lying. After all, Salvatore had spent weeks tracking her to Chicago, an unnecessary effort if they were acquainted.
Still, there was some explanation for why the werewolf was so anxious to get his hands on her. There was a connection between them, if only he could discover it.
"They must have some reason." He stabbed her with a warning glare. "You possess some value for Salvatore to risk so much."
Astonishingly she didn't cower or whimper beneath his stern gaze. In fact, she tilted her tiny chin as she returned his glare with one of her own.
"Look, I've tried not to become one of those hysterical women who flap their hands and faint on cue, but if you don't start telling me who you are and why I'm here, I'm going to scream until I get some answers," she warned.
Styx blinked. Maybe he should reconsider his approach to the woman. Granted, she was troublesome enough. And no doubt she was terrified. But there was a hint of steel resolve that he hadn't been expecting.
"Do you desire the truth?" he demanded.
"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "If you give me some cliche about me not being able to handle the truth, I really will scream."
He didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but if she truly wanted the truth he was willing to give it.
"Very well. The man who approached you last night was Salvatore Giuliani."
She gave a lift of her brows. "Am I supposed to recognize the name?"
"He is pack master."
"Pack master? You mean he's some sort of gang leader?"
"I mean that he is the king of the werewolves. The two goons, as you called them, are members of his pack."