“Fine. Yourbaby. You could’ve gotten killed. Why the fuck are you being so nonchalant about this?”
“Because I wasn’t going to get killed.” I tilt my head to the side, recalling the text I received from Vaughn right after the tragic death of Zver. “He didn’t want to kill me. He only wanted to punish me for messing with his toy. A toy for a toy, see what I did there?”
“And then what? Did your grand plan produce anything yet?”
“Don’t be impatient, Cy.”
“You said he’d be taking the next plane to the island that day.” He searches his surroundings. “I don’t see him anywhere, do you?”
I roll my eyes, then wave at the staff, who are driving the love of my life to her grave. The others scatter, getting ready for the party I decided to throw tomorrow on a whim.
The grounds of the mansion are massive, and with the typical cloudy sky, it looks like it’s cut from the Gothic era.
The place has too many windows whose glass has been bulletproofed to eliminate any security hazards. Spires like it’s trying to stab the sky, wrought-iron gates that creak even when they’re closed, and enough stone gargoyles to start a cult. The walls are a moody gray that always looks wet, like the place is permanently mourning someone—probably my Zver.
She went too early.
Cy follows me as I walk inside. We’re instantly surrounded by high ceilings, echoey halls, chandeliersthat cost more than my soul, and rugs so thick, they could smother a man. The mansion smells like waxed wood, old money, and control.
There’s a panic room in the east wing. My father had it built for “emergencies.” I use it to store liquor, questionable tools, and a punching bag with his face drawn on it in Sharpie. Feels poetic, no?
Cy grabs my elbow and pulls me with him to a quiet corner out of the hustle and bustle of the staff preparing the grand hall for the party.
He’s a bit shorter than me, so it should make the judgmental look in his eyes comical at best. But no, he looks serious.
Ithink.
Fuck me sideways. And the nagging starts in three, two, one?—
“You need to let your fixation with Vaughn go.” He speaks in a low, even voice. “It was stupid enough to fly to New York and fuck his girlfriend, then send him the video. He might let it go with blowing up your bike, so this is your chance to cut it out.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“The fuck is wrong with you? You want your dad to kill you or something?”
“What does this have to do with him? I’m just playing an extremelyinnocentgame.”
“There’s nothing innocent about you, motherfucker.”
“That’s true. Anyway, seriously, you worry too much. My dad won’t find out. My revenge will be over before he gets wind of this.”
He narrows his eyes, then leans against the wall, hisarms and ankles crossed. “Are you sure it’s even for revenge purposes at this point?”
“Of course it is.”
“Extremely doubtful.”
“God forbid a man wants another man to pay for his sins.”
“Four years after the fact?”
“I’m like a horse. I hold grudges for ages.”
“Camel.”
“What?”
“Camels are the animals known for holding a grudge, supposedly, at least.”
