The waiting was always the worst part.
Axle had taken his orders without a single complaint, eager to prove his loyalty and clear his name. He was out at the eastern garage now, subtly talking about me to see which one of the off-site Reapers would take the bait. All we could do was wait for Michael to monitor the network pings and see what—or who—Axle brought back.
Back in Drakon’s top-floor office, the heavy oak door was locked, shutting out the rest of the world.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the tinted windows. I was stretched out on the plush leather couch, my head resting comfortably in Drakon’s lap while he held me against him. His massive, warm hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes through my hair, his fingers gently untangli
