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Emma exchanged a few polite words with Silvija. She had seen Silvija's capabilities as a commander. It would only be beneficial to maintain a business relationship with her.
Then the Queen walked away with Piotr. Naturally, Silvija had quite a lot to do after the Hand's assault. Being responsible for an entire mercenary organization meant the work never really stopped.
Emma watched Silvija depart before she looked at Psylocke. The ninja woman was still standing where she had stabbed her katana into the ground. Her gaze was lingering in the direction where Dante had disappeared, her dark eyes slightly distant as if she was thinking about something.
The expression on Psylocke's face reminded Emma uncomfortably of how Dante had been fascinated by Psylocke's back earlier. Except Dante had a good reason for his fascination. Psylocke was gorgeous and her suit exposed half of her butt in plain sight.
Psylocke didn't have any logical reason to be staring after Dante like this.
'Ridiculous. She wouldn't fall for a taken man.'
Emma put a hand on Psylocke's shoulder. "Psy, we need to move."
Their work wasn't done here, after all. They still had to make sure no symbiote hosts from the underground had escaped.
Psylocke blinked and seemed to come back to herself.
"Dante…" Psylocke said softly, reaching down to pull her katana. "Why did he look like Orochi, the Great Snake in human form?"
Emma felt relieved it was a false alarm. Psylocke just had an utter fascination with myths and legends.
"I don't know about that." Emma gestured to the central compound. "We—"
Her phone suddenly rang. She took it out and frowned.
'What does he want now?'
She picked up, not bothering to hide her irritation. "What?"
"Why are you annoyed?" Dante's voice came through, sounding far too amused for someone who had pushed back SHIELD.
"How can I not be?" Emma shot back, frustrated. She was sleep-deprived and her head was throbbing after the strained use of Telepathy. It wasn't an amateur telepath who had placed the psychic blocks to protect Laura's mind. That telepath was just on the cusp of reaching her level.
He laughed like her misery was entertaining. "You don't have to stay there anymore. Go home and get some rest. You've earned it, Dear."
Despite her annoyance with him, the affectionate compliment loosened her chest. "Are you sure?"
"Yup. Someone else is taking care of it."
"Sure." Emma couldn't help but yawn as she thought of her warm bed and even warmer blankets waiting for her. "You will—"
"Meet you tomorrow," he finished her sentence, knowing what exactly was on her mind. "I know. Jeez. Every girl wants a part of me now."
Emma felt her eye twitch. The bastard acted as if he was so fed up with multiple women having an interest in his time and attention. "Just so you know I can buy your entire existence with my pocket change."
The insult was petty and she knew it, but something about Dante's presumptuousness made her want to give Dante a reality check. She was Emma Frost. She had wealth, influence, and power. She wasn't some lovesick woman chasing for his attention.
"You just called me poor in every language." He sighed dramatically. "I should take tomorrow off to rob some banks. Maybe then I'll reach a percent of your wealth."
"Don't you dare!" Emma snapped, louder than she'd intended.
He laughed as if he had gotten the reaction he wanted, and then cut off the call.
She squeezed the phone, nearly making it creak. "Fucker."
Psylocke let out a short chuckle beside her. "I haven't seen you curse before."
Emma always tried to maintain an elegant image. Now, she was openly cursing someone.
"That man is just so infuriating," Emma said through gritted teeth. "He'd be so much easier to handle without his telepathy resistance."
She herself didn't understand why she was feeling so angry when he had spoken just a few words. It wasn't like he had said anything offensive. Only harmless teasing and jokes.
So why did she want to throw her phone in his face?
Perhaps it was because she hadn't had a healthy sleep routine recently. Exhaustion was making her more emotionally reactive than she would normally be.
'I need some rest.'
The limo would be perfect for a nap.
***
A lengthy walk brought the two women back to outside the facility, where Psylocke had parked the limo. Each step had been uncomfortable for Emma. Her designer heels weren't meant to walk such a distance. Her calves felt like they were on fire.
They had had no other choice but to walk since Felicia had taken the black sedan to transport Ghost Spider and Amy.
Under normal circumstances, Emma would have simply called for another vehicle. However, this place was littered with corpses. She could've asked Silvija to lend her a car, but begging or even asking was beneath Emma Frost.
Emma saw Psylocke pause with her hand on the door handle. The psychic ninja's eyes narrowed before her hand relaxed. She moved into the driver's seat.
'What was that?'
Emma was curious yet too tired to ask any question. She reached past Psylocke and opened the middle door herself—the one leading directly to the J-shaped seating area. Emma was already imagining herself lying across the comfy long seats after kicking off her heels. She would also pour herself a glass of whiskey from the bar, letting Psylocke handle the driving while she relaxed.
A sharp stench of blood hit her, it was so strong that she actually recoiled half a step. She scrunched up her nose in disgust.
'What the hell—'
Dante was sitting on the J-seat like he owned the damn car. No, it was like he always owned it, and she was only borrowing it occasionally. His legs were crossed casually, ankle resting on knee. His left arm was draped along the back of the seat.
And he was sipping wine from one of her crystal glasses.
He wasn't in the Skullfire form or his new symbiote form.
Just the handsome man who had confronted her in Hellmoon Club. Except he looked noticeably paler than she remembered. She could see dried bloodstains on his upper lip area like he had a serious nosebleed. More bloodstains marked his chin.
Death's boyfriend wasn't as invulnerable as she had thought.
He was mortal, despite everything else he could do.
The backseats were where Logan and Laura had been tucked behind seatbelts. Both were still unconscious, their heads stuck at angles guaranteed to give them neck pain when they woke up. Both were covered in blood.
And they smelled like a slaughterhouse.
Dante took another slow sip of her wine, clearly savoring the taste. Then he lowered the glass and showed her a grin. It was charming yet infuriating as though he knew exactly how much this was bothering her.
"Hey, I'm sure you can afford another one," he said and gestured vaguely at the blood-stained interior with his wine glass. "You got plenty of money, after all."
He was throwing her own words back at her. Using her earlier boast about wealth as justification for converting her luxury vehicle into his personal leisure space.
Emma felt something snap inside her.
"I can buy many, yes," she said with a cold smile. "But even Emma Frost doesn't have enough resources to buy manners for Death's boyfriend."
Dante's grin widened, which was irritating because it meant her insult had failed to affect him. He was enjoying this like she was entertainment arranged for his amusement.
"Manners would've been leaving with the limo. I didn't do that, did I?" He asked in a light tone. "Now, be a good ally and drive me somewhere safe. I can't take these two to Silvija's place."
Emma's jaw clenched. He had a point, but the way he talked to her was just pissing her off.
"Necessity doesn't preclude courtesy," Emma said. "You could've asked before dirtying my favorite car. But I suppose that would be too much effort."
"Don't be so dramatic, Emma Dear. Seat's plenty big for both of us," he said, patting the seat with a friendly smile. It wasn't mocking but a genuine invitation to share the space. "Unless you want to stand there and pretend your feet don't hurt like hell?"
The observation was too accurate for comfort. Sitting down seemed like the most appealing thing in the world right now. The J-seat was amazingly comfortable, and there was technically room for both of them without crowding.
For a moment, she actually considered sliding into the seat beside him and accepting a glass of her own wine. But the bloody stench poured cold water on her dreams.
"I'll pass." Emma waved her hand. "Some of us have standards about where we sit."
"Unlike me, right?"
She turned away without a response, walking around to the front of the limo. She opened the passenger seat door and slid into the leather seat with a sigh. The front cabin was blessedly clean, smelling only of the vanilla air freshener of her preference. She felt genuine gratitude for the separation between sections.
The engine started with a soft purr and they began moving.
Emma looked back through the small window in the privacy partition, unable to help herself. Dante was lying down now on the J-seat, the empty wine glass lying on the floor. The casual confidence he displayed earlier was nowhere to be found.
The messy hair falling across his forehead and the hand resting across his chest was a dead giveaway of his exhausted state.
'So much work with nothing to gain.'
He didn't even receive recognition since he had hidden his identity.
Now he was unconscious in her limo, looking vulnerable despite everything she knew he was capable of.
At that moment, a thought appeared in Emma's mind.
'What if I ask Psylocke to kill him?'
He had been constantly on the move since morning, finding measures to shut down symbiotes. It would be weird if he still had energy left to fight. Psylocke would be able to kill him easily in this state—driving her blade through his heart—before he could even wake up properly.
Unless Death herself intervened.
And Emma didn't think Death would. If Emma were in Death's position, she would only lament for having such a weak partner. A high and mighty cosmic being would probably be disappointed that he had allowed himself to be caught in such a compromising position. Why would Death intervene to save someone who'd proven themselves too weak to survive?
This was a perfect chance. Maybe the only chance Emma would ever get.
She could kill the man who had humiliated her twice, manipulated her into this alliance, and at the same time, eliminate a variable nobody truly understood.
Emma tore her gaze away from Dante's unconscious form. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fists.
"No."
She wouldn't act on the poisonous thought when he was working the hardest to stop Norman.
If she murdered someone who was genuinely trying to help people, she would fall even lower than her father.
And Winston Frost had set a pretty goddamn low bar.
"Ever since I left the Hand," Psylocke whispered softly from the driver's seat. "I've decided to only kill irredeemable scumbags."
Emma didn't understand what Psylocke was trying to say.
Psylocke slowed the car and turned to look at Emma. "If you had asked me to kill Dante, I would've left."
Her murderous intent couldn't be concealed from Psylocke's sharp senses. If Emma had voiced the thought, she would've lost Psylocke's respect and service. Psylocke might have even tried to kill Emma to congratulate her achieving the "irredeemable scumbag" status.
Emma kept her gaze fixed out the window, watching lights from distant buildings reflect off dark water. "Why would I want to kill him? He still owes me a favor."
The excuse sounded hollow even to her own ears. Dante being alive posed more variables than his single favor to kill someone. But it gave her something to hide behind. Better to pretend she was just being smart.
Through the corner of her eyes, she caught Psylocke smiling. Psylocke saw right through Emma but chose not to call it out.
Emma closed her eyes and leaned against the seat, letting herself sink into the leather. Tomorrow, she might be needed to negotiate with SHIELD over Laura, or perhaps not if Dante convinced Laura to stay with Logan.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Right now, she just wanted to sleep.
***
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