A surge of pleasurable rush that fills my veins. My eyes close, and I suck in a deep breath. The feeling isn’t as long-lasting as I’d hoped it would be, but those minutes feel like an eternity.
My body feels lighter, my heart is beating faster, and I feel at ease. The rush of the drug being in my system is incredible. Some part of me knows just how terrible this decision was, but the bigger part of me doesn’t care.
Because just for a little moment, nothing hurts, and I’m at ease.
I’d give anything to feel like this all over again. Unfortunately, I’m snapped out of my trance when loud banging comes to the door. Quickly, I hide the remainder of the drugs in the kitchen cabinet, far behind the mugs, and clean up the counter. I know that the side effects of heroin could be a slower heart rate or struggling to breathe, but I hope it doesn’t hit me just yet.
It’s probably why I don’t even question why anyone would knock at the door, considering Arlo has a key, and no one else knows where we are. My feet move before the rational part of my brain can think, and I pull the door open, only to be met with the end of a gun barrel.
TWENTY-ONE
Everyone’s eyes are on me.
Can’t say I blame them. I’m six feet, five inches tall, with long, white hair, and I look ready to murder the place. It doesn't help that I didn’t get the chance to shave recently, so I have a week-old stubble that makes my features look rougher than they are.
Two police officers are walking in front of me, each one turning to look at me every fifteen seconds. It’s not a secret who they have in the cell, and it’s even worse that I truly look like I’ll get rid of this entire place if they so much as piss me off.
The word’s gotten out that I set half of New York on fire. Well, the rumor was spread. There’s no doubt it wasby Kaya, simply because she loves wreaking havoc wherever she goes, and although there’s no evidence that points to either one of us, the cops are still talking, and I don’t like that.
It’s even worse that I can’t reprimand Kaya for her actions because she went off-grid. The bitch is leaving me to deal with the fallout, in classic Ekaterina style. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s a matter of time before she pops up again, and I won’t let her off the hook easily.
The two police officers stop in front of an interrogation room, turning to look at me. One of them gives me a long glance, from head to toe, straightening up his posture. Instinctively, his hand reaches for his gun. He doesn’t withdraw it, keeping his hand on it, just in case. The poor fella doesn’t know I’d have him on his knees before he even got the chance to use it.
“You have fifteen minutes.”
The door opens, and I step inside. They close the door behind me, and I’m left alone with my father.
Oh, boy, does he look pissed.
He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit, hands and feet in chains. They’re treating him like the highest-ranked criminal. To be fair, he is one, but all of their evidence is nothing but speculation or, at best, circumstantial.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” I try to make light of the situation, taking a seat across from him.
His jaw is clenched, and I swear, he has more greys in his hair than he had last night. He taps his foot against the floor impatiently, his knuckles turning white from the way he’s fisting his palms.
“Cut the small talk,” he hisses. “Did you do it?”
My eyes briefly skim the room, and it doesn’t seem to have any cameras, but one could never be too sure. With a small nod, I lean back. He’s referring to getting rid of all and any evidence from our home, and I see relief flood him when he spots theconfirmation.
“Thank fuck.”
“Did they say anything?”
Dad shakes his head. “Nothing. They tried refusing me a lawyer, but they knew I’d raise hell.”
“Who did you pick?”
“Violet Sanders.’’
I hum in response.
Violet’s father owns a law firm, and he’s been our family’s lawyer for decades. Of course, they’re being paid way more than their usual clients would pay them, and they’re aware of the risks for them for being involved with my family. They’re fantastic at what they do, and Violet is set to inherit the fortune soon. Her father, Jackson, is retired, and the man has one foot in the grave. No wonder Dad opted for her instead.
“What did she say?”
“They’re trying to tear down the company, too. I hear they got the search warrant for it.”
My jaw clenches. “Why wasn’t I informed?”
