“You really think you’re clean now?” he asks. “You think you get to wash the blood off just because your whore’s got a kid and a mortgage?”
Rage spills over my patience at the mention of Sable. I lunge, but Will puts his arm out effectively stopping me.
Ned widens his grin, enjoying his provocation.
“You were nothing, Hex. Raised in piss and poverty. Wild. Angry. Your mom? Strung out and seeing angels. You made your living off my name. Off my money. Off my fights. Then when I looked to you to deal with Dillinger’s little girl problem? What do you do?” He slams a hand on the table. “You fuck it all up. Like I’ve done nothing for you!”
He breathes out, slicks his thinning hair back with his palm and gathers himself, then looks up with a grin. “But see, I’ve got footage. From outside that condo. That genius little brother of yours must not have swept far enough. One of my guys caught you and that pretty piece of ass in walking distance from the building.”
I’m trying so fucking hard not to lose my shit, but I don’t say a word.
“Oh yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “I learned a lot about her. Real interesting woman. Cute shop. Nice little house. Son about the age JT was when your mama got so doped up she saw Jesus.”
I clench my fists so hard, my wrists begin to ache from the tension.
Will steps closer, body taut. “Don’t,” he warns.
My pulse is in my goddamn ears.
Ned knows he’s struck something deep.
“You don’t get to pretend to be human now,” he says, like it’s gospel. “You’re a dog. You’remydog. And dogs don’t get to play house.”
I sidestep Will and get right into this human shitpile’s face. “What the fuck do you want, Ned?”
Ned licks his bottom lip, like he’s tasted victory before and he’s about to enjoy it again. “The way I see it—you owe me. You costme Dillinger. Cost me access, money, movement. I’m not here to bury you, Hex. I’m here to give you an out.”
He steps closer, showing me how fearless he is. I take long and slow breaths into his face.
Big fucking mistake.
“I’ve got a fight lined up. Two weeks. Big stakes. Underground stream. You fight for me. You win. All debts cleared. Simple. Or—”
I turn and start walking. Will turns with me, already in step.
“I take a trip to Hawthorne’s house,” Ned calls out, voice ricocheting across the air, fueling the inferno inside me. “Maybe drop a package in the kid’s backpack. Or maybe I just watch. Follow. Wait till you’re not looking,”
I freeze.
Not from fear.
From fury so sharp it turns surgical.
My fists curl so hard the broken skin on my knuckles has blood welling like a warning. I could be across the concrete in seconds. I could break his jaw, his ribs—fracture something essential before anyone gets a hand on me.
And for a second, I want that.
I want it so bad my teeth ache.
I want to hear the crunch.
I want to see him bleed.
I want him to understand what it feels like to beg for breath he doesn't deserve.
But then it hits me—
There are too many men between me and him. Even with Will’s help. Armed. Ready. They wouldn’t just hold me back. They’d take me out.
