Then she stands.
Calm.
Cold.
Unshaken.
Wiping the blade on Tony’s shirt, she folds the knife, and tucks it away. Every movement precise, and practiced.
She turns.
Her eyes meet mine.
Empty.
Broken.
Gone.
And before either of us can say a word, she says the sentence that shatters something inside me:
“Now I know where to start.”
Maverick’s grip loosens.
Because we both know she’s not talking about following a lead.
She’s talking about a hunt.
And Tony?
Tony is just the beginning.
TWENTY-TWO
NIGHTMARE
Maverick stepsback from Tony’s body and drags a hand over his face. “I’ll call Dementor,” he mutters, already reaching for his phone. “He’ll clean this mess up before sunrise.”
I’m still staring at Tony’s slack face, blood pooled around the chair legs. Londyn did that. And now she’s… what? Shattered? Regretful? I have no clue. I can’t tell anymore.
Walking a few steps away, Mav’s voice is low as he talks to the cleaner. “Yeah. Need you at the warehouse. Now. Bring the burn kit.”
I barely hear him. My head is still focused on Lolo’s cold eyes, Tony’s last breath, the blade in her hand. Everything in me feels wired and on edge. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice that she slipped away.
Then I hear it.
A motorcycle engine roaring to life outside.
My stomach drops.
Maverick freezes mid-sentence. “D, hold on.” He lowers the phone. “Night… that your bike?”
I’m already moving, shoving open the warehouse door so hard, it bangs off the wall.
The space off to the side where I parked my bike is empty… except for fresh tire marks and the fading growl of my damn Harley headed down the street.
“Fuck, Night. She took your ride,” Turbo mutters behind me.
