Nightfall came slowly—dragging shadows across the warehouse floor like dark fingers. High above, the fractured skylight let in the last bruised light of day, painting the room in golds and greys before dusk sealed it all in iron.
Ethan hadn't moved in hours.
He couldn't. Not just because of the chains—though those bit into his wrists every time he shifted—but because of what was happening inside him.
His body was betraying him.
The hunger, the dehydration, the dull ache of silver still lingering in his blood—they all chipped away at the edges of his composure. His senses had sharpened in the absence of food, but instead of clarity, all he got was torment.
He could smell the meat roasting on the fire.
It wasn't much. Just a small tin pan balanced over an open flame near a stack of broken crates. But the scent—charred fat, spice, salt—punched into his gut like a fist. His stomach clenched violently. His throat burned with thirst.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. Feral needed food. Lawyer needed logic. And right now, one wrong thought would tip the balance toward something darker than either.
Across the room, Anna watched him with her arms folded.
She hadn't said a word since sundown. Just stirred the fire. Flipped the meat. Waited.
Waiting, Ethan realized, was a tactic.
He hated how much he respected it.
His jaw clenched. The words tasted like ash, but they came out steady.
"Kellerman keeps an off-grid estate. Adirondacks. Under his wife's maiden name. I'll give you the coordinates."
Anna didn't flinch. Didn't thank him. She just waited, like she knew this moment was inevitable.
He slumped back against the wall, breathing shallow. Every part of him rebelled at the admission. But there it was. The first stone, cast.
Finally, she stood. The fire flickered behind her like a living shadow. She walked toward him, a small piece of meat skewered on the end of a folding knife.
He lifted his head, eyes narrowing. "You going to toss that on the ground and make me crawl for it?"
"No," she said simply. "You're not a dog. Just a man. And if I don't feed you, you'll faint. And I need you awake."
She knelt beside him and held the meat close.
He hesitated—suspicion tightening his jaw—then opened his mouth. She didn't jam it in. Didn't mock. Just placed it gently on his tongue. The warmth, the salt, the simple substance of it made him shudder.
She offered another bite.
He chewed. Swallowed.
"You could've left me like this," he said hoarsely.
"I could've," she agreed.
"But you didn't."
She looked at him with something unreadable in her eyes. "You agreed."
Ethan nodded slowly. "You want Kellerman. I'll give you Kellerman."
"I want more than Kellerman," she said, rising to her feet. "But he's the first stone in the landslide."
He leaned his head back against the beam. "If I give you what you want… names, locations, fears—whatever it is you're hunting… they'll know it was me."
"Yes," Anna said.
"They'll come after me."
"Good."
He let out a laugh, bitter and hollow. "Of course you'd say that."
Anna tossed the bone into the fire. The flames crackled like applause. "You're still thinking like someone who has options."
Ethan's eyes flicked toward the place she'd been sitting. "You said you wouldn't release me without a contract."
She stepped back toward him and held up a small silver blade—elegant, ceremonial. The edge shimmered in the firelight.
"I did," she said. "And I meant it."
"Paper and ink not good enough for you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"I don't trust signatures from men who argue the truth is subjective. I want this one written in something real."
She handed him a thin strip of parchment.
Ethan's lip curled. "You want me to sign in blood."
Anna tilted her head, one brow raised. "You're a wolf, aren't you? Might as well act like it."
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, drawing blood, and spat onto the paper. "There. Happy?"
She frowned. "That wasn't metaphorical."
He stared at her for a long second, then held out his hand.
"Give me the knife."
Anna hesitated, then placed it in his palm. He cut a shallow line across the inside of his forearm, let the blood pool, and then dipped two fingers in it. The motion was slow. Methodical. Deliberate.
He wrote:
"I, Ethan Cross, offer full cooperation to Anna—whatever-the-hell-your-name-is—in pursuit of the names, crimes, and locations of my former clients."
He underlined it. Twice.
"Happy now?"
Anna took the paper, folded it, and tucked it into her coat pocket.
"No," she said. "But I'm getting there."
He watched her step back into the shadows. The warehouse was still. Too still. He felt the weight of it—like the city had stopped breathing.
"I don't trust you," she said finally.
Ethan smirked. "That's wise. I'm a lawyer. Which is just a liar in a nicer suit."
"I don't trust your compliance, Ethan," she clarified. "Compliance isn't loyalty. It isn't belief. It's survival. And men like you only survive by calculating what benefits you."
She crouched near the fire again. "So, you're going to earn your freedom. One name at a time."
He sighed. "You ever considered therapy?"
"I did," she said quietly. "Until I watched a monster walk free... and realized justice isn't real. Not in your world."
She didn't blink. "The day my father died, I stopped believing in happy endings."
Her voice sharpened like a blade.
"Because evil won. And you handed it the gavel."
The room grew colder.
"You think Kellerman is the only monster I want?" Her voice dropped. "He's the entry wound. I want the whole rot excised. The CEOs. The lawyers. The scientists. The PR firms. Every single piece of the machine."
"And what exactly do you expect me to do? Draw you a map? Point out the ones with the sharpest teeth?"
"No," she said. "I expect you to walk me through it."
Ethan let out a long breath. "So, what—you plan to use me as bait?"
Her eyes gleamed. "Something like that."
He closed his eyes. He could feel the meat settling into his gut, dulling the hunger. But not the dread. That remained. Cold. Heavy.
"You've got nothing else to lose," she said.
"That's where you're wrong," he muttered. "I have everything to lose. Because once I help you take these people down—"
"They'll come for you."
"They won't stop."
"No," Anna agreed. "They won't."
She didn't try to reassure him. Didn't offer safety. Because there was none.
He opened his eyes and met hers. "And if I try to run?"
Her expression didn't change. "Then I'll find you. And I won't need silver next time."
There was a long silence.
Then Ethan nodded once.
"Fine," he said. "Let's burn it all down."
She stared at him. Not in triumph. But in appraisal.
"This isn't the end of your chains," she said. "It's just the beginning of the leash."
He laughed again. "You're really bad at motivational speeches."
"I'm not here to motivate you," she said. "I'm here to use you."
She stood and turned away.
"And when we're done," Ethan called after her, "what then? You going to kill me?"
She didn't answer right away. Just stood at the fire, watching it flicker and spit.
When she finally turned, there was something colder than revenge in her eyes.
"When we're done," she said, "we'll see if there's anything left of you worth saving."