“Nope.”
“Really? Nothing?”
“Not a fucking thing… Oh, he did squeal for his mom at the end.”
“She’s dead.”
“Maybe he was hallucinating. I mean, to be fair, I’d just taken off his other hand at the wrist and started beating the shit out of him with it. The asshole was covered in his own blood, and I figured if there was ever a time to let him experience being on the receiving end of his own fists, that was it. Poetic justice and all that.”
I stare at him becausewhat the actual fuck?“Wow. Yeah. Wow. I mean, you’re fucking crazy… but thank you.”
“Anytime, brother. Now you can thank me by letting me meet your lady.”
“Anything but that.”
“What? Why the fuck not?”
“Because you just beat a man to death with his own severed hands.”
“So? That makes me interesting. Come on, I saved your ass today, the least you can do is introduce me to her.”
“Fine, but don’t be weird.”
“I’m not gonna be weird,” he says, offended as hell. “But if she finds me hotter than you, that’s not my fault.”
“Never going to happen. Now get me out of here.”
Chapter 27
Shannen
How many stagesof grief are there?
Because I’m pretty sure I’ve torn through all of them and invented a few new ones.
I feel like I’m losing my mind.
Where the fuck is everyone?
No cops have shown up today. No calls. No questions. Nothing. Just silence, which somehow feels worse than being interrogated.
Lianna is dealing with some kind of crisis at the club, and then she’s coming back, but where are Lucien and his brother? The ones who are supposed to be fixing this? They’re meant to be these fucking… I don’t even know what they’re meant to be. Hackers? Fixers? Involved in some dangerous shit? I don’t know, and it’s heading into the evening now, and there’s still no word on Phoenix.
Before I can spiral completely, there's a knock at the door. I’m moving before my brain catches up, my heart lodged in my throat,while hope hits me stupidly fast. I wrench it open, but it’s not Phoenix.
The guy standing in front of me could pass for him at a glance, if you weren’t looking too closely. Same height, same solid presence that fills the doorway. Dark hair, though not as dark as Phoenix’s. It’s more mid-brown, sun-kissed just the tiniest bit. Tattoos creep out from under his shirt sleeves, winding up his forearms, and a nose ring glints under the hall light.
He’s definitely not police, and definitely not someone who knocked on the wrong door.
“Who the hell are you?”
He tilts his head, looking me over with an intensity that should make me uncomfortable but somehow doesn’t.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Shannen.” That raspy voice is unmistakable.“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Lucien?”
He smiles, just a little, and whatever fear I had drains out of me. I don’t know why, but I know if Phoenix trusts him, then I do too.
