Maz’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she looked at the screen before her. I sat there, waiting, unsure what she was doing, until she called me over.
I stepped over and went around her desk. On the screen was the young boy from last night, the one Liv killed.
“Was that him?” Maz asked.
He looked so innocent in this picture, a mop of curly blond hair.
Chase Bolen, it said below the photo.
Then I scrolled through the other information present.
Looks sixteen, actually thirty-seven. Wanted for murder, assault, stalking, breaking and entering.
My eyes bugged at the information.
Maz clicked an arrow and a photo of a dead woman sprawled out on the carpet of an apartment came into view. A floral couch sat behind her. There was no blood, no big wounds that I could tell; she just looked pale and was unnaturally lying there. My eyes flicked to her neck, where there were two puncture marks.
“Simone Freesome. Human. Twenty years old and on a basketball scholarship at Gonzaga University,” Maz told me. “Chase killed her a few months back.”
I chewed my lip and she pulled up another photo. “This is Conner. He was at the raid as well. Stephanie, Harper…” She flipped through a bunch of photos all showing their name and age and a list of what they’d done wrong as the walls closed in around me.
I’d been so stupid to question this. To question Maz.
“I … I’m sorry. It’s just been a rough few weeks,” I told my mentor, my mind spinning.
Maz nodded. “I understand, dear. It’s good that you question these things. It means you’re human and you have a beautiful heart.”
I nodded, forcing myself to say the next few words. “Can you show me what Luka Drake did?”
Maz stilled, her hand frozen over the keyboard. “Your kill from a few weeks ago?”
I dipped my head. “It was … hard. He seemed … normal.”
Maz shook her head. “They all do, dear.”
Her fingers flew over the keyboard and then she pulled up Luka’s photo. My heart twisted into a lead ball in my chest, constricting my breathing.
Luka Drake, looks twenty-two, actually thirty-two. Prince of the Drake royal line. Crimes: Murdering his own father, rape, draining a feeder.
The room spun as I looked at his crimes. Luka killed his father? Rape? Bile rose in my throat as I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Do you have … evidence?”
Maz gave a curt nod, pulling up a photo.
I took one glance at the redheaded girl sprawled out in the woods with two prick marks on her neck and turned away.
My heart pounded so loudly in my chest, I was sure Maz heard it.
He lied. He was a murderer and rapist and heliedto me. I’d been tricked. I’d played with the devil and lost the game.
Concealing any of my emotions from my face, I reached out and clasped Maz’s hand.
“I feel better. Thank you,” I lied. I felt like I wanted to throw up. I felt like I wanted to take a razor wire to Luka’s neck.
Maz nodded. “Of course, dear, you can always come to me with this stuff.”
I left her office feeling a heavy depression settle over me. I knew there was only one cure.
Luka Drake had to die. No more games. It just needed to be done.
