25. Draven

A fter handing her my shirt to get cleaned, remembering her comment about wet pants, I begin telling her about her next Maze.

"Blonde-Shell, or Marcella—" At this point, I don't care I spill every fucking secret this place has to hide. "She is going to try and fuck with your head."

Max wobbles a bit as she pulls her leggings up over her hips. "Like, hypnotism or…"

A groan leaves my lips before I respond, "Drugging, and likely some other elements." I don't miss the stiffness that takes over her shoulders and how straight she becomes. Pressing forward, I step to her and give her shirt back. "I think she's going to put it into the mist, and as much as I want to say hold your breath, that likely isn't smart."

"Do you know what kind of drug?" She clears her throat. "Not that it really matters…"

As I stand before her, I grab her chin and direct her gaze up to me. "Ketamine. If she mixes it with the water for the mist, it will be diluted. She likes to make people suffer, so it won't completely haze you over."

Her eyes are dilated, and I'm brought back to the comment from Chris—he was going to suggest an overdose. I'm familiar, far too much so, but she isn't reacting as if that's where her fear is stemming from.

"Anything else?" She asks, taking a breath and dropping her arms to her side.

I lower my hand to the curve of her neck then to her shoulder. "Her whole thing is vanity. I suspect she'll use that to try and get into the maze-goers' heads."

She sighs, "Great. Blonde-headed bitch. Good thing I could care less about what I look like. She's got another thing coming when I smash my fist into her nose." At first, I hated her going on rants, just rambling, and rambling… I still do, that has not changed. "Let's see how much cosmetic surgery she'll need once my heel makes indents into that pretty-little-face of hers. That stupid—"

"Okay," I cut her off, "you are speaking through your anxiety."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," she grumbles, turning away from me and beginning to walk toward the maze.

Funny how she thinks we're done here. I grab ahold of her forearm and bring her a step back to me. "I'm not belittling it. Just don't let it consume you. She won't try to use this face of yours, or your body." She's peeking back at me but not turning her body to fully face me. "You know exactly what you don't like about yourself, and she will make you see it at its worse."

Her eyes round. "Is she some type of fucking witch? How is that possible?"

I sigh, never removing my gaze from hers. "She's been doing this for nearly as long as I have. It's not witch craft, or whatever. It's her understanding of what makes people tick." Her shoulders relax, and I release her arm. "She used to be a Psychiatrist in Florida, helped treat those with eating disorders and body dysmorphia. Until one day, someone she saw as inadequate, called her ugly. Let's just say that patient, along with the staff, never went home."

"How is she—"

"None of us here, Max, are good people… She's not really even a blonde." I tuck a hand into my pocket, and say through a low chuckle, "Fraud."

A mock gasp comes from her, "That's more of a crime than her murders." When a laugh bubbles from her lips at her own joke, I can't fight the sensation to join her.

The drag of her foot as she turns to me, makes me stop laughing. "And you?"

"Me what?" I knew what she was asking, but I needed a second to center myself.

"Why are you here? What did you do to become Grim?"

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. "Killed people."

"Well that's obvious." She crosses her arms over her chest. "With that name, I imagine you were maybe a graverobber. Or, you own your own graveyard with your victims—Oh my—" I narrow my eyes, "—Satan. You are! You own your own graveyard don't you? That's why you refer to yourself as Death!"

Not sure if that makes as much sense as she's putting out, but I'll at least tell her the truth, "No, while I do have a personal graveyard where my kills go, I do not own it. That isn't why I refer to myself as Death."

She's waiting eagerly, and now that I reflect about it in the brief pause I have, I don't think I've ever said it out loud.

"I don't give life, Little Sheep. What is the opposite of that?"

A huff escapes her as she dramatically bends her back. "I feel pretty alive right now!" she grins and gives me a slow wink.

"Uh huh," I release a sigh through my nose, "I'm a gun waiting to be fired. I don't bring hope. I'm not the light in the darkness, but instead, serve as its catalyst. With me, the only inevitable thing, is death. Which is why, dear Max, I am called what I bring."

There is a moment of pause, her posture returning to being more formal, "I see… Well, you don't scare me."

"No, that is painfully obvious," I say while rolling my eyes.

"You may piss me off—" I tune her out, shit, that's right. As she rambles on about something, I take out my phone and begin pulling up my email. I have my own security, beyond what Jarvus and the other Hunters use for their needs, and so it takes me a bit of time to move through their proxy to mine.

"One of those guys huh?" I peek up at her, and she's shaking her head. "Wait, how do you have signal?"

"We have our own network," I say briefly. "Max, I did—"

"Can you share it with me?" She interrupts me and I net my brows together.

"No."

Her mouth drops open. "Why not? You literally shared your dick with me and you won't let me log into your Wi-Fi? That's fucking rude as Hell."

I groan outwardly, my chest expanding as I pull in a deep breath, " Petit Mouton , I'm trying to tell you something. Why in the bloody Hell would you even need it right now?"

"To post a—" She cut herself off, likely from the involuntary twitch in my eye she sees. "Sorry, go ahead."

I feel like I'm too old for this…

I roll my eyes, exhausted, and hand her my phone. "I did a background check on you."

"You…" slowly she takes my phone, "Did what?"

"None of us are good people," I remind her. "I haven't looked, yet, but I want to understand why there is so much redacted, Max. What happened to y—"

"This is so fucked, Draven, what the Hell is your problem?!" Her anger pours from her, so palpable I swore she slaps me. "This is such an invasion of… of… me!"

"I was hilt deep in your ass, Max, I'm pretty sure I've seen parts of you, even you yourself haven't seen." The darkening of her cheeks comes with more fury. "If you think this is beyond me, then you still have a lot to learn. This won't be the worst thing I'll ever do."

"What the actual…" she turns from me, and purposefully pulls her arms tight to her sides so I can't grab her. Her head is tilted down, scrolling through my phone, and pacing away from me, right back toward the mazes. "Fuck…"

A growl rolls from my throat, and I am in stride right behind her. "I'll never lie to you, and I knew you'd be mad, but as you can see I don't give a shit." My hand grabs onto the back of her neck and stops her. "Answer the question, why is your past so redacted?"

The hard swing of her fist hits my forearm, and in the action she drops my phone.

"Fuck you, Draven."

I don't let go; instead, I maintain a tight grip and simply stare at her. "Tell me."

Please, Max.