“No,” Declan says. “Not until you give me your name.”
The decoy leans back like he’s enjoying himself. “Pete.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Declan doesn’t blink. “Fair enough. Carry on.”
Pete’s eyes flick toward Tatiana’s contact for half a second, like he’s checking he’s performing correctly, then he leans forward again. “I traffic women who have no other path left on this road. You know the types. They’re lost… we give them purpose again so they can find a higher power eventually.”
Bullshit.
My fists clench beneath the table.
Declan doesn’t snap. Doesn’t rise. He stays controlled because control is the weapon right now.
“You traffic women across our state lines and into our clubs under our noses,” Declan says evenly. “We don’t stand for that.”
Pete claps loudly, mocking. “Aren’t y’all so righteous?” He leans forward, face twisting mean. “Bet you wouldn’t hesitate to lodge a bullet between my fucking eyes.”
Declan’s spine straightens. “I would,” he says flatly. “Yes.”
Pete pauses. And I watch for the real reaction.
Not from Pete. From Tatiana’s contact. He barely moves, but his smile sharpens. Because he knows this is all theatre. He knows we’re still sitting here. Still playing along. Still letting this go on. Because we want him to walk out of here feeling safe. Feeling smug. Feeling like the big scary Quinns couldn’t touch him in God’s house.
Declan tilts his head, voice almost conversational. “But you’re a piece of shit.” He taps the table once. “If you agree to stop trafficking, I won’t lodge that bullet in your skull. How does that sound?”
Pete scoffs, trying to recover swagger. “This peace isn’t very peaceful.”
Declan’s mouth curves slightly. “No,” he replies. “It isn’t.”
Then his eyes harden, the temperature in the room dropping. “It’s just the only reason you’re still breathing.”
I keep my face neutral. Because everything in me is primed to kill, but today isn’t about killing the decoy.
It’s about what the decoy leads us to.
And as Pete keeps talking, the pieces slot into place one by one, neat as a blade sliding into a sheath.
Tatiana thinks she’s protected the real Preacher by hiding him. But she’s done the opposite.
Because now?
Now we get to follow the trail, and we don’t stop until we find the ghost.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Lily
I’m brushing my teeth to get rid of my bad breath. The vomiting has taken hold of me, and I’ve only just started to feel better. And actually manage to keep some water down.
Dad’s gone to get Mom from the back gates, so he won’t be long. I carry on, trying to make myself look somewhat presentable, even if I’m looking slightly grey.
By the time I do that, I have to sit on the edge of the bed to catch my breath.
I grab my phone, trying to distract myself. Secretly hoping there’s a text from Drago that it’s done.
Nothing.
