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I swear, the only thing she hasn’t scrubbed is the walls…
I spoke too soon.
“It’s good to know you’re still as impulsive as you’ve always been, friend.”
“We’re not friends,” I growl. “Oh, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Your last payment bounced, Hellfyre.”
And this coming from the guy talking about friendship not two seconds ago. I roll my eye so hard I see stars.
“I thought we were friends.” “I was ...
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“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Hellfyre.”
“You’re no fun,” he whines, followed by another faint snort.
“Before you go all murderous on me, I don’t know who for certain. What I do know is there was an order to administer a little… heart-stopping agent when she passed out today. That obviously didn’t happen, so…”
“Who?” I ask, my voice terrifying even to my own ears. “Who was going to administer it?”
“Sandra Payne.” He sighs, sounding bored by my line of questioning. “Head nurse of trauma. She’s been siphoning drugs from her patients and underlin...
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“In a storage locker on 50th. Bless her heart, the poor thing even put it under a fake name. I love how stupid people are sometimes. Like, why bother if it’s going to show up on your payment records with everything else?”
And Sandra Payne dies. Tonight.
Where the hell is it? Lockets can’t just grow legs and run off, so why isn’t it here?
Police found the head nurse this morning, dead from an X overdose…
The pea-sized tracker pops out of Lillith’s locket into the palm of my hand. I place the metal device between my molars and grind it to dust, spitting the remnants onto the pavement below.
Who the actual fuck is tracking her? Ghost is supposed to be on top of things like this. Otherwise, what the fuck am I paying him for?
“Hello, flower,” he breathes. “I’ve been waiting so long.”
“I’m going to take you now, Lillith,”
This is how I’m going to die—stabbed to death in my bunny pajamas.
him crouched in front of me, the silver dagger glinting menacingly in his outstretched palm. “Take it,” he murmurs. “Go on.”
“Here. Grip it like this,” he orders, flipping my wrist so the back of my hand is closest to the blade. “Never hold the blade upright. You want it down like this, see?
“Fuck, yes.” The man groans, wrapping an arm around my back before I have time to escape.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, his eye rolling to the back of his head as blood gushes from the wound. “Just like that.”
“You’re so sweet, little flower,” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
“I told you this would happen,” he growls, sounding regretful as he rams his fist into my temple. Then everything goes black.
“Are you awake, flower?”
Her breathing is rapid and hushed, the sound of it reminding me fondly of the snow-white bunny rabbit I owned when I was little.
It, too, was one of my prized possessions, but it was taken from me too soon. Like everything else.
Six. One. Ninety-eight. The digits of her birthday.
“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispers, her emerald irises glinting with something other than fear. Want, want, want. I tighten the grip on her wrist. “Yes.”
But only when you ask me to.
“Because,” I deadpan, pulling it to my lips and placing a delicate kiss on the swollen flesh. “You shouldn’t fight so much.”
You’re hurting yourself. Please stop, I can’t fucking stand it.
“Like you give a fuck,” she growls, her green eyes shooting fire at me. “...
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“Please,” she pleads, her eyes wide and innocent. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. No one has to know what you did. Just… let me go.”
“You already know the answer to that, flower,” I murmur.
You’re mine now. There is no letting go, not when I’ve waited so long to find you. So long to have you. T...
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“This is your new home, little flower. I suggest you get used to it.”
“What?” I bark, knowing full and damn well who’s on the other end.
“Amazing. You do know how phones work.”
“What in the fuck crawled up your ass tonight?” he snaps, looking unimpressed.
“I have somewhere to be, old man.”
The man in charge of funneling girls into their operation is missing, and no one can figure out what happened to him. I could only assume it had something to do with you.” Relief replaces the
“I don’t fucking believe you.” Well, that sounds like your problem. I shrug,
“You can do what you want, Kain. I just ask that it’s not at the club's expense.”
I want to go back to when everything made sense.
When my life was boring, and I didn’t have the hots for my kidnapper.
His eyes seem to scream “fine, be that way”
