Kindle Notes & Highlights
We had your back, but that was your vendetta.” Brea showed her red-stained teeth. “You couldn’t just shatter his kneecaps or cut off a limb. You had to put a bullet in his skull.”
“Listen, I support your desire for revenge, God knows I do, but there are simpler ways to go about it. And if this all backfires . . . if I hafta choose between my career and your elaborate game . . .”
“I can’t put my neck on the line, brother. Not again.” She was alluding to the “faulty” breathalyzer that had gotten their nephew out of extremely hot water, and to the understanding that she and Chance never discuss whether that evidence had been tampered with, or who’d suggested such a thing in the first place.
there was another critical ingredient that had been overlooked—one that Chance soon discovered added all the flavor: ruthlessness.
“Only a fool gambles what he can’t afford to lose.” “A damn fool,” Chance agreed.
Earl Kotter—Chance’s daddy—and Amos “Tusk” Sauerland died on the very same day, an hour apart and two towns from each other. Some declared this a woeful coincidence. Others preferred to think of it as God’s work.
She hated this man absolutely but couldn’t deny being relieved to see him.
“I’m helping myself. Don’t think for one second that I like you, because I don’t. Not at all.” It clicked then, with an exact and satisfying sound, and in a way that made Flo wonder why it had taken her so long to realize. “Okay, I get it now. You have money riding on me. You’re cheating.” “I’m keeping it interesting,” Burl said.
“Chance really trusts you.” “Like a brother,” Burl said. “That’s why this is the perfect crime.”
Heartbreakingly, Flo thought that if one were to kill the other, her task would be 50 percent less challenging.
Brea saw only concern and kindness in Mo’s eyes. He must have seen the brokenness in hers, because he lowered her into the seat and said, “Let me help you.” Brea frowned at that. Help? The concept of help, here in Reedsville, was entirely foreign, especially to the fractured person she had become.
“I think all women look beautiful with short hair,” he said. “It brings out their eyes. Their truth.”
Her truth had indeed been brought out. She looked closer now to the creature she felt like inside. No more Brea. No more sister. No more friend.
To begin with, she couldn’t comprehend why Tay had given her Jessie’s location, then it dawned on her. The lions were getting hungry. They wanted blood. She would give it to them.
“You could never kill me, Jessie. I know that. It has to be this way.” “No, Brea. Please—” “I already killed Flo. I didn’t want to, but I did it because I knew she’d take you out to save Imani.”
This was the most dangerous part of the city, and the most comfortable Jessie had felt since arriving. Chance Kotter claimed to have eyes and ears everywhere, friends on every corner. This might be true in Waterloo Square, Colonel Park, the business district, even Upper and Lower West, but it wasn’t the case in Shovel Town.
One prayer, not for salvation, not for mercy, but for her friend. Her sister.
She spotted Goose outside the Wells Fargo on Main Street and again in Colonel Park. Just doing his job, probably, but Brea began to wonder if he had an alternative agenda.
You’re not like the others.” “What do you mean?” “Chance’s other minions watch me, but you stare.”
In Chance’s eyes, he’s the good guy. He protects the people he loves and the things he’s worked for.”
Tears were not a sign of weakness. Uncle Dog had always told her that tears were a sign of heart, and it was heart that made you fight.
Aaron threw his backpack over one shoulder.
Uh oh… the repeated mention of a backpack has gotten me thinking of a possible twist here
He managed several shaky steps and stopped. “What is it?” Jessie asked. “I’m . . . I’m fine.” Aaron unshouldered his backpack and reached inside. Jessie heard a bright beep followed by a whirring sound. It sounded like a small
Omg omg he's the Wren!! Noooo this is wild!
he was jerking off in the driver’s seat. “Marit,” he grunted, stealing glances at Brea over his shoulder. “Marit . . . Maaa-rihhht . . .”
Eww wth
Aaron connected with a slew of like-minded creatives (some of whom would go on to form the network of gray hatters known as the Trace), developing social bonds, something he’d never managed to achieve in the real world. This was one of the many benefits of an online existence. He could explore, interact, and infiltrate without ever needing to leave his house. PTSD and agoraphobia did not exist in an environment of clients, servers, and protocols.
Aaron recognized his from the moment he first set eyes on her, in a promo shot for the California-based cover band Crash the Moon. Such
There was a small pool of saliva on the floor next to Jessie’s slack mouth. The wren dipped his tongue into it.
Eww dude
This was about her. It had always been about her. On the surface, his plan had been simple: set a trap for the Bang-Bang Sisters, use Chance Kotter and his gang of Dixie assholes to debilitate them, then offer Jessie a lifeline.
“I’ve been Burl’s computer guy since 2014. Then, by extension, I became Chance’s computer guy, which gave me access to his cloud, his hard drive—all his comings and goings.”
“They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but really, it’s a person’s computer. Five minutes inside someone’s system, and you know everything about them you need to know.”
Chance and Burl do not have a crack squad of elite hackers. They think they do, but it’s just little old me.”
“The Trace was never hacked. It was never furnished with false evidence. I worked with Chance and Burl on the setup and created a fake contract. Then I sent it to you directly, bypassing the Trace. They have no idea any of this went down.”
How was it possible to love someone and want to kill her at the same time?
Her goal, as always, was not power, but speed and precision—hitting her mark cleanly.
At the very moment Flo felt the tip of the knife on her throat, a scream rang out. It was penetrating and chilling and utterly familiar, to the point that all the strength drained from Brea’s upper body.
There was no way of knowing that the wren was on the other side of this door, with his haikus and his feathers, except she did know—picking up bursts of her sister’s terror, perhaps, a cross talk in the DNA they shared.
“I’m here, Jess. We’re here. Your sisters.”
A coldness rolled through her. She looked up again, following the path the feather had taken, and saw him—his pale little hands, his pale little face. Brea straightened to her full height. Their eyes locked. The wren hopped birdlike across the joists and faded into the gloom.
This scene is straight out of a horror film and gave me the chills
This dire reality uncovered something else, a detail that had been submerged beneath the hoopla of Chance’s game: that the wren was the reason the sisters were in Reedsville in the first place. Brea’s hard-on for this sick motherfucker had brought them here, and now—together again, in their mad, beautiful triangle—they were going to finish what they’d started.
“Reality check, motherfucker.” Brea offered a bitter smile that he didn’t see. “You didn’t kill me.” “Who do you think brought you to Reedsville?” His teeth appeared in the mess of his face, something like a grin. “I am Nine-Star. I set you all up, and not one of you is leaving this city alive.”
“Noooo.” She turned to see Jessie and Flo teetering across the landing, both of them pale and damaged.
He still had feathers stuck to his face. They were soaked with blood. Jessie had feathers in her hair and the folds of her clothes. She gathered them all—from him and from her—then opened the wren’s slack mouth and pushed them inside.
Now he can fly his way down to hell
Chance didn’t know that Burl was on antidepressants, and Burl wanted to keep it that way. He likewise didn’t know that Burl sat with a therapist once a month and that he often cried during the sessions.
It was quiet, though, except for Tanner, breathing like a fucking horse. Burl was about to motion to the big dumb fuck to bring that shit down a notch, then somebody groaned—a
Lmao
Burl freed his gun and, for a single, precious second, believed he was still in control, then everything turned to thunder. Everything went bang.
“You went after my computer guy,” he said. A bitter, ugly sound escaped his throat, somewhere between a cough and a sigh. “Got him to hack into Track-U-Gen and take you offline. Smart. But did you really have to kill the poor son of a bitch?” “Your computer guy came after me,” Jessie said.
