As if she hasn’t already taken so much from me.
I’m silent as Taylor straightens her blazer and walks over to the door to the suite. My jaw grinds painfully when she swings it open and a regal-looking woman in her late forties walks in.
Amaya smiles briefly at me. I don’t smile back.
“My my, Kratos,” she says softly. “All grown up now, aren’t we?”
Her hair is dyed blonder than it used to be. Her face has the shiny, tight look that suggests she and Botox are besties now. But those fucking eyes of hers haven’t changed at all.
Dark. Cold. Cruel.
She’s also still got the brutal-looking scar running up the side of her neck. I don’t give a single shit how she got it, but I remember it used to scare me, when I was a kid and we first met.
…Before I found out there were much scarier things about her.
“If you’d like to address my client, you can talk to him via me—”
“And you can take that cunty attitude and ten-thousand-dollar Chanel suit and fuck right off,” Amaya says with a wide, venomous smile at Taylor.
Taylor’s brows arch sharply and her nostrils flare.
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Agent Mircari, and I speak fluent bitch. So, we can stand around slinging shit at each other all day, or we can have a productive meeting about—”
“I think it’s time you left, Ms. Crown.”
Taylor almost looks amused. “That’s obviously not happening, Agent Mircari. This is a legal meeting, and I’m Mr. Drakos’ attorney—”
“And I’m about ten seconds away from waving close to a thousand anti-terror provisions in your face courtesy of the Patriot Act, Ms. Crown,” Amaya spits back, with an almost gleeful expression on her face. “We can start with section C, paragraph twenty-seven. Then we’ll move on to provision nine-fifty-two, section D.” She smiles icily at Taylor. “Do I need to keep going?”
I can see the wheels turning in Taylor’s head. I notice the way her jaw clenches. When she turns to me, I already know where this is going.
“Kratos…”
“It’s fine,” I growl quietly.
“With the charges being firearms, and given that it was a terror sting op, she can actually—”
“It’s okay,” I mutter.
“Goodbye, Ms. Crown,” Amaya snaps with a brittle laugh, opening the door for Taylor.
My attorney glances at me once more, her face grim. Then she steps out, the door slamming shut behind her.
The room is quiet as the she-devil from my past slowly turns to me, arms folded over her chest as she leans against the hotel room wall. The seconds tick by in silence as she grins at me, and I glare death right back at her.
“Unbelievable,” she finally says quietly. “You got even bigger.”
“And I can only assume you’ve grown another forked tail, some more horns, and scales,” I hiss quietly.
Amaya chuckles, slowly shaking her head.
“I’ve missed—”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
She scowls.
“Seems like you’ve got yourself in a bad spot, Kratos. And it would also seem I may be your only way out of this mess. So, maybe we act a little more civil to each other?”
I bark out a cold laugh. “You want me to be civil to a piece of shit like you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, in any case,” she says, clapping her hands together, “our past—”
“We don’t have a fucking past,” I growl darkly at her. “You’re not my fucking ex, you miserable bitch.”
“Ohhh, I don’t know if that’s true, do you?”
I look away. “What the fuck do you want, Amaya.”
“It’s what the CIA wants, actually,” she shrugs. “Not me.”
“Which is?”
Her smile widens. “Information.”
I snort. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not a rat.”
“No. But you’re a Drakos.”
