Her lips pull back, eyes flashing. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Oh?” Mistress steps slightly forward, her voice dropping into something quieter. Crueler. “Did he not tell you that part? Or you’re just that dense?”
My gaze flickers—and that’s when I see the gun tucked at the back of her jeans.
My pulse spikes. She must’ve grabbed it earlier when Scar intercepted us. During the chaos.
She continues, relentless. “Do you not know they all laugh at you behind your back?” she murmurs. “You’re not special to Hellfire, Glory.”
Mistress almost spits out her name like it’s something vile. And I agree—itis.
Glory’s fingers tighten on the gun.
“You’ve fucked half his men,” Mistress goes on, almost bored now. “How do you think you got your name?”
A beat.
“Because you’re agloryholefor everybody.”
The word lands like a slap.
Glory snaps. “You fucking bitch—” Her composure shatters completely. Rage distorts her features, turning her sharp. Ugly. Pathetic. “You think you’re better than me, you whoring mutt?” she spits, voice climbing. “You thinkyoumean anything? To anybody?!”
Mistress doesn’t even flinch. That seems to make it worse.
Glory laughs—high, unhinged. “At least I was wanted,” she sneers. “At least I wasn’t forgotten.”
Mistress’s jaw tightens slightly. It’s the first crack I’ve seen.
Glory sees it too, and she pounces.
“Oh, what?” She tilts her head mockingly. “Did that hit a nerve?”
Silence.
“Or are you just upset, Leila,” Glory continues, voice dripping venom, “that I was the one warming Wolf’s bed for years?”
The words hit like a gunshot, and everything inside me stops.
That name clicks into place and my stomach drops.
She’s Leila. Wolf’s Leila.
My eyes snap to her.
Oh God. She’s alive.
Everything happens too fast.
One second, Mistress—no, Leila—is standing beside me. The next, she’s charging.
Glory’s smug expression fractures into pure panic as she fumbles with her gun, fingers scrambling—desperate.
“Safety’s on, you stupid bitch,” Leila grits out and her fist connects with Glory’s mouth with a sickening crack.
Glory staggers back, the gun slipping from her grasp as it clatters across the floor. Her face twists, feral and furious, as she lunges.
Leila doesn’t hesitate. She meets her head-on.
