That only made the rage come harder. Because now I had to sit there and picture every conversation we ever had through this new lens; every time she asked some question a littletoo casually, every time she played soft, played understanding, played like she saw something in me worth loving. Meanwhile, she was really trying to build a federal case big enough to bury my people for life.
I was worse than angry; I was humiliated. I had let this woman get that close. I had let her in my space, in my bed, in my business, and she had been moving with a badge in the background the whole time.
“Reek, please,” she said again, stepping closer. “I never gave them enough to hurt you. I swear. I got scared, and then I fell for you and didn’t know how to get out. I thought maybe if I told you now, maybe you could help me.”
I looked at her like I had never seen her before. Because I hadn’t. What I had seen before was whatever version of her she wanted me to see.
“What they got?” My voice was so calm it was scary.
Her lips parted, but she hesitated. And that little pause did it. I don’t know if it was the fear in her face or the fact that she still sounded like she wanted me to save her after all that. Maybe it was the hurt, rage, embarrassment, and betrayal giving me a feeling that I felt when I was younger, a feeling I swore I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel again.
All that shit hit at once and turned into something black in me.
My hands shot out before I could stop them. My fingers wrapped tightly around her throat, squeezing with all the strength in my body. She gasped, and her eyes went wide with shock. Tears were already welling up as her body bucked against mine. Her nails dug into my knuckles, clawing desperately to pry me loose, scraping skin until blood welled up and trickled down my wrists. She fought hard, legs kicking out, heels scraping the dirt, but I held on, thumbs pressing into her windpipe, feeling the cartilage give under the pressure.
Tears streamed down her face, soaking my hands as they slid over her cheeks. Her sobs turned to choked gurgles. Her lips parted as her mouth worked silently for air that wouldn't come. Her face turned red then purple as veins bulged in her neck. She clawed deeper, drawing more blood from me, but her strength faded fast. Her arms weakened, and her fingers twitched before her arms fell limp at her sides. Her eyes locked on mine, pleading, then glazing over as her body went slack in my grip.
I released her then, and she crumpled to the ground, lifeless. For a second, all I heard was my own breathing and the wind blowing. Sienna lay twisted on the cold ground, eyes open like she still couldn’t believe how this ended.
And then reality hit me in the face. I had just killed Langford’s daughter, an alderman’s daughter. The same daughter tied publicly to me. The same daughter connected to Project 83. The same daughter secretly working with the Feds.
I had just turned one problem into a whole political and federal storm.
Alderman Langford was going to tear this city up looking for her. The Feds she was working with were going to circle harder. The project could get dragged into it. My crew was going to be furious.
I stood there in the shadows, staring down at Sienna’s limp body sprawled on the cold concrete. Her neck already showed the bruises from my hands. Dark fingerprints blooming like ugly flowers on her skin.
I checked her pulse, pressing two fingers to her wrist.
She was gone.
I crouched, sliding my arms under her shoulders and drug her deeper into the site.
The concrete pour area was ahead. The slab had already been poured that morning. It was smooth and gray with a mixer truck still sitting nearby. Its drum was half-full like they weren’tdone yet. Hoses snaked across the ground into the pump that had been feeding wet concrete into the forms for the foundation walls.
I'd run these machines before, back when I was still trying to turn my illegal money into a legitimate construction business.
I laid Sienna down beside a deep trench lined with plywood and steel rods, about ten feet long, waiting for the next pour to encase the rebar skeleton.
I stripped the tarp off the truck's controls and flipped the ignition. The engine rumbled to life with a diesel growl that bounced off the unfinished structures. The drum rotated slowly, churning the gray mixture inside.
Grabbing her ankles, I dragged Sienna to the trench edge. I rolled her and fired up the pump. I gripped the nozzle and aimed it into the form. The concrete gushed out, splattering against the sides before pooling around her legs. I knew to keep it even and sweep the nozzle side to side, let it flow from one end to the other, building depth without air pockets that could crack later. The mix climbed her calves, then thighs. Her torso vanished next, bubbling slightly as it engulfed her shoulders. I angled higher, pouring over her face last. Her features disappeared under the concrete. Her mouth filled with it. Her eyes sealed shut in a concrete mask.
After fifteen minutes, the trench was filled to the brim, and her outline had been erased completely in the solid mass.
“Sienna's dead. I killed her.”
The words just hung in the air as they all just looked at me, trying to wrap their heads around what they had just heard, or trying to figure out if they had heard it correctly.
I knew everyone would still be at the Cartier estate and I wasn't about to sit on this. Sienna's death was my mess, but I wasn’t going to hide it from the crew. So, I’d headed back to the estate as soon as I left the site. Once I got back, I called the fellas to the office.
Icon's eyes narrowed. “You what? The fuck you mean, dead?”
“Sienna told me she’s been working with the Feds. She just told me tonight. She confessed that the Feds were putting a case on her. When she heard that her father was working with the Cartiers, she came up with a plan to get close to us to give the Feds something bigger than her own case. That was her plan all along when she suggested being linked to one of us.”
“You didwhat?!” Big A barked.
Legend took a step toward me. “Tell me you’re playing.”
