I’m insulted by how dumb he thinks I am. “In what cruiser?”
Quinn’s mouth tightens as Scull utters a curse and drags a hand down his face. “What do you want, Bourbon?”
“What doIwant?”
Scull’s jaw flexes. “To keep this to yourself.”
“This, as in your secret relationship that will surely get you both fired for conflict of interest?”
“Don’t play games with me. I think you already know you won’t win.”
My eyes narrow, my temper rising. “Does your girlfriend know who you really work for?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“I do.” Quinn clears her throat, her big blue eyes flitting between me and the man old enough to be her father. “Let me talk to him, Shane. Pick me up in the morning?”
Scull nods without another word, shouldering me roughly as he passes.Fucking alpha complex.
“Brontë?” Quinn notes my wary frown, wringing her wrists. “Let’s grab a bite while we catch up. My treat.”
Sitting at my desk under the morgue’s dim lights, I pick at the pizza Quinn called in for delivery.
Waiting.
Quinn nibbles on her crust, apprehension written all over her face. I offer nothing but a cold mask of indifference with a heavy hint of disgust.
“Back in May,” she begins, a nervous hitch in her voice, “do you remember when you found a strand of Poppy’s hair and gave it to me for testing?”
“Oui,” I grind out, failing to conceal my irritation at her passive confession that she knew, even then, who I’d been chasing. It makes sense; as Scull’s lover, she would’ve known anything about theMorgensterns he decided to share. Which, apparently, was everything. “I remember.”
From her tote on the floor, she pulls a familiar object crafted with raven feathers, animal bones, and blood-crusted twine. Along with it, a card not unlike Nikolai’s invitation, creased as if she spent countless hours folding and unfolding it. She slides it across the desk. Instead of coordinates, it’s printed text—a letter.
“It basically says that I’m an accomplice for not only assisting you in your illegal pursuit of a known vigilante but also acquiescing to your request in prioritizing evidence without official authorization from law enforcement. They threatened to turn me in if I didn’t deliver the second poppet that came with mine to you. I took this to Shane and explained the situation. He told me to do as I was instructed.”
I skim the text, all of which matches her testimony.
Interesting.No note was left behind with Margot’s poppet, nor was there any correspondence attached to mine. What Quinn is claiming doesn’t fit Leviathan’s pattern.
It doesn’t mean she’s lying. It means Leviathan knows how to remain unpredictable.
Poppy was right: Quinn was being blackmailed.
There’s still one major problem, though.
“You kept this from me, Quinn. I thought we were friends.”
“Wearefriends, Brontë.”
“Friends don’t keep secrets like this.”
She scoffs and jabs an accusatory finger at my glare. “You have no right to judge me. Imagine my surprise when Shane told me that you weren’t only working with Poppy, but that you’rewithher. That the vigilante you’d been so hellbent on bringing to justice is nowyour—what? Lover?”
“How often do I see you?” I parry, unwilling to let her turn this on me. “How many times could you have told me about any of this? You’re so self-absorbed, you can’t even see how much of a hypocrite you’re being, or how much you’re hurting me right now.”
Tears crystallize her long lashes. “You’re hurting me, too.”
The crack in her voice slices me to the bone. A heavy weight presses down on my neck. It feels like shame’s thickest blade, sinking deeper than any knife ever could.
