“Stop it!” I cry.
“Think of Elsie,” Dagen tries. “Do you want her to be scared for the rest of your lives?”
“So, you’re asking me to be just like him?” I demand. “You’re asking me to be a killer?”
“It’s self-defense,” Wylan argues. “We’re not asking you to sell your soul, Ava. We’re not even asking you to do it. This is what I do. This is what I’m being paid for. I can take care of things without you ever getting your hands dirty. And I won’t lose any sleep over it.”
“I never agreed to murder,” I counter, jerking away from them. “If I’d have known, I’d have?—”
“What?” Felix demands. “Hidden? Made sure to not walk anywhere alone?”
“We’re not asking you for permission at this point,” Wylan points out. “We’re telling you what’s gonna happen.” He leans in. “You see, our souls are far blacker than yours, and I for one don’t mind adding another stain to mine if it means you and Elsie are safe.”
“This isn’t part of the plan,” I rasp, knowing I won’t have a choice, that I won’t be able to stop them. Somewhere deep inside me, I know they’re right. Ric won’t stop. He’d said as much after the gala. Now that’d we’d humiliated him in front of everyone, now that these billboards were up, and now that his assets had all been seized by the FBI. Somewhere even deeper, that I don’t want to look at too closely, I want them to do it, to rid the world of the terrible human that Ric is, but I’m not ready to come to terms with that part of me. I’m not ready. Not yet.
“It was,” Dagen admits. “It was just written with invisible ink.”
“This is bullshit. This is?—”
Dagen grabs me and tugs me into him, his hands gentle despite the aggression in his expression. I understand it’s not meant for me, that it’s at the thought of Ric hurting me, but it still makes me shrink just a little.
“Don’t do that,” he chastises before sighing and softening his expression. “I don’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I reassure him. “Old habits just die hard.”
He studies my face for a few long moments before he carefully directs me to the car. “Get in.”
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer. When Wylan and Felix move to the car, he stops them. “Another car will be here in thirty seconds to take the two of you wherever you want to go.”
Wylan scowls. “Not cool, mate.”
Felix only watches the two of us carefully, not arguing, as if he knows where this is going. I feel completely out of the loop, and I don’t like it.
Dagen gets into the back seat with me this time and closes the door behind us.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
“You’ll see,” he says, and offers no other explanation.
We drive for about fifteen minutes through the city, weaving in and out of traffic, until we reach Central Park. It’s there where the black car pulls over and Dagen climbs out before offering his hand inside for me. I take it without hesitation and slide out after him.
“Central Park?” I ask, frowning at him. “Why here?”
He walks me into the park, following the path carefully. We walk in silence for about thirty minutes, just enjoying the weather and the sunshine and people watching. Finally, he finds a secluded bench and sits me down on it.
“Right there,” he says, pointing to a relatively obscure patch of grass with nothing around.
“Right there what?” I ask.
“That’s where I killed my mother.”
I jerk my head to look at him with wide eyes. “What?”
He laughs at my expression and shakes his head. “Oh, I didn’t pull the trigger, but I paid the bill for it,” he admits. “Wylan was already pretty famous by that point, and it was difficult to contact him, but I paid his exorbitant fee to make sure that my mother’s reign of terror didn’t continue.”
I open my mouth and close it again, not sure what to say.
