The utter coldness of his words convinced Saffron of his promise. Blake unlocked the door and locked it again from the outside. Alexander, face completely impassive but for the flare of his nostrils, closed his eyes. Perhaps he was finding courage in the meditation he’d spoken of. Or coming up with a plan. With two of them and just Berking in the room, they might be able to manage an escape, if they were given the opportunity.
Behind them, Berking’s heavy footsteps paced. He jerked open the drawers of Maxwell’s desk, muttering and shoving things around inside. Then he paced again, his labored breathing marking his place in the room. Without warning, he strode over to Saffron’s chair and flipped her around roughly. Saffron bit her lip on a cry of surprise as she came face-to-face with him.
“How did you know about the plant?” he demanded, his voice reverberating in her ears. When Saffron didn’t respond, he tilted her head back with a rough hand grasping her chin so she had to look at his flushed face. “The aconite! How did you know where it was? I won’t tell Blake, girl—I want to know! How did you find it? It was hidden! How did you know?” He smacked her smartly across the cheek.
The sting of his palm burned her cheek, sending tears flooding into her eyes. Saffron could hear Alexander straining against the rope next to her. Her cheek throbbing, she shook her head.
This didn’t satisfy Berking. His face red and his eyes bulging, he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her face up to his. “But how did you know about the aconite? The other plant went missing from my garden. That must have been you!”
The hand pulling at her hair tightened viciously. Gasping in pain, Saffron opened her mouth to reply, but Alexander spoke.
“I did it, Berking. Let her go.”
Berking maintained his grip on her hair, but his raging eyes darted to Alexander. A sneer stretched across his face. “Really, Ashton? You expect me to believe you had something to do with my plant going missing?” He wrenched her hair again, eyes back on her. “What did you do with it?”
“I tried to give it to the inspector, but he laughed at me. Said it was just a plant in a botanist’s garden,” Saffron cried, praying he’d believe her and let her be.
Berking let go of her and went to the other side of the room, glaring at her and breathing hard. “What else do you know?”
“N-nothing,” Saffron whispered.
“She doesn’t know anything, Berking,” Alexander said, his voice loud and brash. His jaw was set, eyes flashing. “You’re mad if you think that you and Blake will get away with this scheme.”
Berking’s nostrils flared. “What do you know of it?”
Alexander, indifference gone and replaced by a cold look of anger, said quickly, “You’ve been embezzling and want to pin it on Dr. Henry. Saffron had nothing to do with this—it was all me. I’ve been the one trying to figure it all out. Don’t touch her.”
Berking seemed to consider Alexander’s words. “I don’t believe you, Ashton,” Berking said quietly. He took a step over to Alexander and moved his chair, too, to face him.
Saffron’s stomach tightened at the sight of his darkening bruised eye, the blood on his face.
Berking’s voice was a venomous hiss in Alexander’s ear. “I don’t believe that you figured out where my aconite strain was growing. The two of you have been huddled up together—”
With a shocking crack, Alexander smashed his head into Berking’s. Berking fell back with a grunt, his body thudding to the floor. Alexander, still bound to the chair, struggled to his feet. Saffron tried to do the same but only managed to fall back and push her chair a few inches toward the wall.
Berking was already getting to his feet, blearily rubbing at his head. “You’re a dead man, Ashton,” he growled.
Saffron struggled against the rope. She had only a second to try to help Alexander do something, anything—
But Berking was on his feet. With a grunt of effort, he sent his fist careening into Alexander’s temple, the same place he’d been hit by Blake before.
Alexander fell, the back of his head cracking against the wood floor with a resounding finality that brought a cry from Saffron’s lips.
Berking stood, breathing heavily and gazing down at Alexander’s still form. Then, he laughed. The sound lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
Saffron realized she was shaking all over, her teeth chattering in her skull. Blake was cold-blooded, and Berking a madman. Even if the xolotl didn’t kill Alexander and her, the two men would find a way to keep them quiet.