There was an edge in his voice, not really of anger, irritation perhaps.
Cassa shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Cabal, we’re never going to agree on this. And until we agree, nothing is going to change.”
She couldn’t allow him to win this battle—if he won this one, then she would never know a moment’s independence again.
She moved slowly from the table back to her chair, before taking her seat with a sense of weariness. Suddenly, she felt tired, uncertain. She had no idea where to go from here or how to convince him that he would end up destroying her.
She turned her head, watching as he straightened his clothing, his gaze glittering with amber frustration.
“I’ll be back later. We’ll discuss this then,” he stated as he stalked across the room to the door.
“Of course we will.” Her smile was tight, sad. “I’ll just sit right here and wait on you like the good little mate you think I should be.”
“Is that what I ask from you?” Anger was invading his tone now.
“Have you asked anything else from me?” she asked quietly.
The door slammed behind him in response, a clear indication that his temper was riding the same thin line as the arousal that bound them.
The sarcasm in her voice should have warned him. If it hadn’t, then he would learn in time, she assured herself.
Pushing back the fear was the hard part. The fear that defying him would earn her more than his arrogance or harsh words. That it would earn a slap, or something worse.
She wasn’t a coward, but she had been taught her limits of physical endurance years before, during one of the most hellish periods of her life.
God, what had made her think that Douglas wouldn’t betray his own career then? He had betrayed her, over and over again. His career wouldn’t have mattered any more to him than she had. Selling the Breeds and their rescuers out to the Council wouldn’t have caused him to lose a moment’s sleep. What had ever made her believe otherwise?
And what had made her think she would ever be free of him? There wasn’t a chance of being free, not ever again.
She watched the news for a while longer, keeping careful track of the time as she did so. She was to leave her room at precisely three minutes after four. No sooner, no later.
She rose from her chair at two minutes after, pulled on her jacket and moved to the door. As the time changed to three minutes after, she opened her door and stepped out as she slung her pack over her shoulder.
Striding to the elevator, she checked the time. Dog had given her exactly two minutes to make it to the back entrance of the inn.
As she stepped into the elevator, she had to fight the feeling that she was going too far. Contacting Dog wasn’t a good idea—if Cabal ever learned of it . . . Meeting with him was an even worse idea.
How else was she supposed to get the answers she needed? How else was she supposed to find out why a killer thought he could kill Douglas again? Unless he meant to kill him through her.
She shook her head at the thought. The killer wasn’t insane. There wasn’t even a hint of insanity in what had transpired so far. Vengeance, yes. Anger, perhaps. But there was nothing crazy.
Did the killer think Douglas was still alive?
The thought almost froze her in her place as the elevator doors opened on the lobby floor, depositing her in the deserted hall.
Douglas wasn’t alive. She had seen him die; she knew she had. There on the floor of that horrible lab, a steel spike driven into his back.
She stepped into the hall, her steps slowing as she moved to the back entrance of the inn.
She hadn’t actually seen him die. She hadn’t seen his body at the burial. It was a closed casket funeral, supposedly at the request of family.
She’d wondered at the time, What family? Douglas had never mentioned family to her.
Lifting her head, Cassa paused at the back entrance, her hand clenched around the strap of her pack as she fought with the questions raging through her mind.
This killer was smart, methodical. He had managed to get seven men to return to Glen Ferris after word would have spread that the Dozen was being picked off, one by one. He knew what he was doing, and he knew how to do it.
He wanted Douglas. He wouldn’t be satisfied with Douglas’s wife.