“Sit.” She points at the leather armchair near the end of the man cave.
I don’t argue. I hobble over with my eyes on the knife, then sit down.
Upstairs, something heavy slams into God knows what. A man roars. Glass breaks again. A wet crunch, and I can’t tell whose voice that was but pray it’s not one of my men. Why is itthat things are finally working out for me… or at least heading in the right direction… and World War III breaks out?
“Malia, please let me call someone. The police. An ambulance. Anything. I can—” I reach for my back pocket. My phone is there, but she’s on me before I’ve managed to unlock it. She snatches it out of my fingers and drops it into the pocket of her coat with one clean motion, and the blade shoves back up.
I shrink into the chair.
“Who are you, really?” My voice is small and shaky. “You’re not the Malia I know, are you?”
“You don’tknowme, girl. You met a version of me I wore. That’s not the same thing.”
“Clio—”
“She’s a sweet child who thinks she’s clever. Clio and her sister and their silly little Tuesday night pretend detective agency and their snacks. Do you know why I joined that club?”
I shake my head, annoyed at what I’m hearing. She’s been faking it this whole time? What the hell for?
Upstairs, a thud, then another. My chest is caving in that my Alphas are up there, and I pray they’re doing all the hurting.
“Please, Malia, someone is going to die up there.”
“Maybe they will.”
“Malia, you don’t mean that.”
“Do you want to know why I joined that club?” Her hand is shaking around the blade. “Because I needed someone to help me find Rebecca. She’s my cousin and means everything to her family. And do you know what my brother told me, the man who could have found her killers?” She’s shouting now, her voice ricocheting off the concrete. “To let it go, that she was gone, so I should just mourn. My brother, who has men, told me to fucking let it go.”
“Malia—”
“As if she were a piece of laundry.”
Upstairs, a loud gunshot, and I can’t breathe right. My ribs are too tight. My eyes sting. Tears are running down my face as I keep imagining one of my men getting killed.
“And those silly girls in the club, they were the only people on this island who were willing to sit with me and look. So I sat with them. Every Tuesday. I baked for them. I listened to their theories. I ate their snacks. I did the research they were too busy to do, and I took it home and worked on it until three in the morning, because at least they cared.”
“Malia, listen to me, please?—”
“Quiet.” The blade lifts.
I press myself back into the seat as a small sob escapes me, but I clamp it down.
“And thenyouwalked into that room, later revealing you were with those three boyfriends.” She’s laughing now, a thin, cracked laugh. “You and your three scent matches, and I sat there watching you, and I thought, ‘What lovely luck. What a gift.’ And then Clio told me you found those masks, so I brought out the photo and I saw your face, girl. I saw that you recognized those men, recognized the bodies. You knew, and I realized you knew what I needed.”
“So, what, you called Daniel? How do you even freaking know that asshole?”
“My brother had a whole file on him, and when I read that he was connected to you, of course I called him. I told him where you and which of my brother’s men could be bought, because I’ve spent my whole life in my brother’s house, learning exactly what he does.” Her face contorts. “And I brought them all here, to your lovely little house, so that your three killers could die in their own living room as revenge for what they did to Rebecca Hana, and you could be someone else’s problem. Fair is fair.”
“You’re so wrong,” I start when another gunshot sounds.
Single. Sharp. Loud. And my world stops. Every drop of blood in my body turns cold. My hands fly to my mouth, and I whimper. Was it one of my men?
My vision blurs from the tears in my eyes. “Malia. Please. I’m begging you. Please let me call the police.”
“No!”
“Please, Malia, someone could be dying right now. Please—” I’m trembling, leaning forward, figuring I could try to take her, attempt to grab my phone back, but I’m not a fighter and would just as likely get stabbed.
