Her throat bobs. “I don’t know anything about his finances.”
I lean in slightly, enough to crowd her breathing space. “Then tell me about the night he left.”
Her jaw tightens, teeth gritting as she spits out, “What night? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Another question pops into my mind, “Where did he go?”
Her eyes narrow.
Finnic shifts, probably running the multiple possibilities of his whereabouts in his head.
“Did he take anything with him?” I press.
But she stays silent.
I straighten abruptly, causing her to jolt backwards on the mattress.
“He stole millions,” I point out as I pause where I’m at to stare down at her, “and men have died for far fucking less than that.”
Her head snaps up. “You clearly don’t know my father.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t need to. Men likehim don’t get their hands dirty. He hides behind his money and lets other people do the dealing for him.”
She looks spent, hollowed out in a way that makes the air feel heavier around her.
Finnic steps forward. “If she’s telling the truth-”
I cut him off with a hard glare that stops him dead in his tracks. “She’s not.”
I face her again, my shadow swallowing her whole. As soon as her eyes lock with mine, I draw my hand back just long enough for her to register what’s coming, then snap it forward. The slap echoes as skin connects with skin. “Here’s the deal, Princess.” My hand throbs from how hard I struck her, but I slip that hand into my hoodie pocket and pull out a photo. “I knew you were lying from the start. I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”
I hold the photo before her and recognition sparks in her eyes instantly.
It’s an all-color picture taken from a few feet back.
Long brunette hair, black pea coat, and to match, those fancy-ass stilettos all the girls like these days.
I lean in slightly, voice low in her ear. “You expect me to buy your act of knowing nothing, when the evidence is right in front of me? Tell me, is that not you, handing a duffel bag full of cash to your father as he climbs onto some fancy fucking jet?”
Her eyes water, but no tears fall. The red hand print across her face is neon against her pale skin.
“What do you want from me?”
I tuck my fingers under her chin, forcing her emerald eyes on mine.
“Everything you remember. Every name. Every phone call. Every place he ever ran to when things went wrong.”
She swallows as my thumb grazes her bottom lip. “And what if I don’t know enough?”
I straighten and stare down at her.
I hate playing this role. I don’t like having to lay my hands on her. I have to talk myself up for weeks to be able to even fathom it. It’s comical that I have done this to plenty of other disloyal members of the Genovese mafia and hostages for business purposes, but I despise doing it to her.
But I need to convince Finnic that she is worth nothing without information.
“Then you’re not worth my time and you’ll die here.”
Chapter Four
