Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,80

care of our people, and we do, but the punishment for breaking trust with Mom is brutal. Often, it’s fatal too. It has to be or else there’s chaos. We are predators, and predators don’t respect weakness.”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this.” I joined him in watching her sleep. “She is—was—a good friend to have at your back.”

“I always thought so.” He cut his gaze to mine. “I hope I wasn’t wrong about that too.”

His meaning sank in, that he might never have known the real Ares, and my heart pinched. The witchborn fae hadn’t made their move until I was one year into my apprenticeship, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t infiltrated the local packs well before then.

Ares might have cozied up to me as I hit it off with Midas in the hopes she could worm her way into my confidence, which she had, and learn my weaknesses. She might have never been my friend, and that sucked. We’d had rough patches, but she always came across as genuine, and I liked her. I liked Liz, what little I knew of her, too.

But then again, I was sure plenty of folks—my brothers included—believed Matron Pritchard was a good woman.

They were wrong about her.

We had been wrong about Ares.

Watching her sleep under present conditions felt ghoulish, so Midas and I settled in against the wall to wait on Grier and Linus. I leaned my head on his shoulder, shifted the weight off my right foot, and gave myself a moment to process before things got hectic again.

What felt like seconds later, I jolted awake, having fallen asleep standing. All that had kept me from melting onto the floor was the warm arm Midas had wrapped around my middle to keep me wedged between him and the wall. The noise that had stirred me was the outer door opening then clanging shut behind Linus and Grier.

The couple approached, hand in hand, but neither carried their kits stocked with necromantic implements. Their low conversation echoed, and I listened in once I realized what they were discussing.

“The guard warned she’s not restrained,” Grier was saying. “Sigil or zip tie?”

“Sigil.” Linus awarded her his full attention. “Bind her wrists and ankles first.”

This must be how gwyllgi felt all the time, doomed to listen in without meaning to, but it felt rude to me.

“He’s right.” As much as I hated to be harsh on Ares, she wasn’t Ares anymore. “Take all precautions.”

Neither of them started at my verbal intrusion, but they would have noticed the echo too.

“Okay.” Dipping her chin, Grier shook out her hands. “Let’s do this.”

A tad concerned by her apparent lack of preparation, I asked, “You’ve got everything you need?”

“Yep.” She withdrew an antique pocketknife with a lethal edge. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll go in with her,” Midas volunteered. “I’ll secure Ares until Grier restrains her.”

“Works for me.” I checked with Linus. “You okay with that?”

“Yes.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I trust Midas with her.”

A greater endorsement had never been spoken, and even Midas appeared taken aback.

“Abbott told us she was sedated.” Midas removed a card from his pocket and swiped it through the lock. “We burn through drugs in our systems quickly, so stay on your guard. She might be playing possum.”

“Okay.” Grier pulled on her game face. “Wrists first.”

Once the door swung open and the path cleared, a few things happened all at once.

Ares jackknifed off the bed.

Midas charged her.

Grier cut her palm.

And Ambrose stretched to wakefulness inside me, spreading dark tendrils that seeped across the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched the familiar tattered cowl envelope Linus’s head and his dark cloak unfurl to his ankles. The scythe that often haunted my dreams appeared in his hand, and he strode to the door with lethal purpose.

A braver woman might have reached out, but my fingers curled, nails biting into the meat of my palms. I would never not be afraid of him like this. I wished I could say otherwise, but it was the truth. I saw him all in black and wanted to wet my pants, run, scream, sink into the floor, vanish into thin air, or some combination of all those things.

The crack of meat against bone jerked my head back toward the cell in time to witness Ares’s head snap to one side and her eyes roll up in her skull. She collapsed at Midas’s feet, and he flipped her onto her stomach, planted his knee on her spine, and waved Grier