Emerge: The Captive: (Book 3)(26)
“I won’t sell out,” Quinn muttered.
“Have you eaten?” James asked.
“No.”
“I’ll order brunch brought up from the dining hall.” He tapped a message into his phone. “For now, let’s have a chat.” James crossed his legs, with a notepad in his lap. He looked every bit the psychologist or counselor, although he was quite young. Not much older than Quinn or Santi.
“Oh, God. You’re a shrink?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. They wanted to fix what they’d damaged.
“Definitely not,” James said dryly. “They don’t care that much about our mental health. And they definitely never let me go to college. I barely qualified as a high school grad. No, I’m just here to get you back on track, Quinn. This doesn’t have to be difficult. And if you listen to nothing else I say, listen to this. Enjoy your reprieve while you can. This part is a cakewalk compared to what you have behind you and in front of you.”
Quinn took a deep breath, preparing himself for a sermon about how wonderful Soma was and how good life could be if he’d just drink the Kool-Aid.
“Let’s just focus on your immediate future.” James sat back in his chair. “You’ve been through hell your first few months here. You lasted a lot longer than most, which tells me you are incredibly strong of will. Michael’s tactics are base and cruel. His tactics are not mine. While you are here with me, you will work out. Regain your strength. You will eat well and you will sleep soundly. We want you to recuperate. You’ve earned it.”
“You want me healthy and happy so you can push me back down when I least expect it?”
“We’re only talking about your immediate future. I am not privy to whatever happens to you when you leave me.”
Quinn twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder at the door. He could sense her. The tug of her control was always there, but he knew she was coming and he knew she was furious.
“Yeah. She’s mad as hell.” James winced, glancing at the door just before Livia barged in, the door rattling on its hinges.
“Livia.” James stood to greet her but she swept past him, dropping a pile of photos on the desk in front of Quinn.
“We have a problem.” She took James’s seat. “Whenever we remove a young Immortal from their home, the families tend to take the hint and walk away when they realize the kids are better off with the kind of training we can provide. Occasionally, a family will attempt to negotiate the release of their loved one, but rarely does a family challenge the Fold the way yours has.”
“Are you that deluded or are you just stupid?” Quinn leaned forward, ignoring the way James tried to cover his laughter with a coughing fit. “Do you really think what you did qualifies as ‘removing me from my home?’ What are you? Immortal Social Services? If you think they’re going to let me go that easily, you don’t know a thing about family.”
“I hate families,” Livia sighed. “Yours has been poking around for weeks, but today … this man had the nerve to pay me a visit.” She pulled a surveillance photo from the stack and Quinn’s heart skipped at the sight of a familiar face. Liam. He technically wasn’t family, but he’d always been like an uncle to Quinn and Graham.
He shrugged as if to say he didn’t know the man in the photo.
“He made an appointment with one of my assistants. Apparently he’s interested in purchasing a commercial space on the first floor of Sterling Tower. He wants to open a bar, of all things. He pitched it as a means for the Fold to gather useful information on those Immortals who come and go in Atlanta. I met with him briefly. He didn’t mention you, of course, but my sources tell me he is connected with the governor’s family in your region. He’s obviously using this scheme to get close to you. Who is he? I don’t like the way he looks at me.”
“What do you want me to say, Livia? Maybe he just has a crush on you,” Quinn said.
“There have been others. A lieutenant governor of your region has approached Soma—a Greyson Hauser. He claims the governor there is interested in our next auction and would like to start the paperwork to join our exclusive and private organization. Who is the governor to you? Are they your parents? Friends of your parents?”
“I’ve never met the governor,” he lied. He wouldn’t sell out Gregg and Naeemah like that. “If they’re interested in joining your secret club, it’s not because of me. Maybe they want to buy a servant? I hear she’s an awful cook. Burns everything.” Quinn shook his head, thinking of the way Naeemah always burned the bread. Every. Single. Time. He’d give anything to be home now, not complaining about her cooking ever again.
“Your family is hunting for information and it will lead to nothing good. For you. Or them.”
She slid a photo across the table and Quinn’s mouth went dry at the sight of Graham. It wasn’t just seeing his brother that sent Quinn into a panic. It was seeing where his brother was. The time stamp on the photo was just a few days ago. Graham sat on a bench in a park. Piedmont Park, just below Sterling Tower. Graham was in Atlanta. Quinn did his best to seem disinterested in the photo of his brother sitting on a bench, casually texting on his phone—but Quinn knew better. Graham could hack the Pentagon from his phone and make it do a little dance for his entertainment. Graham was trying to get to him and it crushed something inside of him. Forget about me, little man, I’m not worth the risk.