“Yeah. That’s where she’s the weakest. I spent years trying to fight Alana, and I couldn’t do it. But Kinsley? She’s…” It’s his overconfidence that makes his downfall so much easier to understand. He’s like an anime villain that thinks he’s about to win, right before the hero levels up.
“Listen. I love Kinsley with every fiber of my being. And I love Alana but let me tell you—Kinsley is a crazy bitch. Certifiable.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You should be.” I need to assess how bad this is. “Who else do you have?” I ask.
“Her mom. Her dad. Her brother.” He rattles off a list of hostages. “I had to rough up some bodyguards to get to Lena and Amanda.”
“Oh, fuck, man.” My voice almost whines. “You don’t want to do this. Alana at least has limits—Kinsley does not. When she was fifteen she took out an entire family. She had them arrested by the FBI because the daughter was kind of a bitch."
The color drains from his face. I sit in silence, letting my words sink in. He swallows but regroups, eyes focused and squaring his shoulders. I almost feel bad for him.
"Listen, back in high school Kinsley was on the prom committee and had a deal with a guy who did lighting and props for tour companies. But his son tried to spike her drink and was arrested. So, the dad backed out of the deal. Do you know what she did?”
He growls, “no.”
“The kid went to prison, and his family spent hundreds of thousands on lawyers and still lost. The dad’s company went bankrupt. He lost his house and his car. His wife left him, and his son is still in prison. All because this guy raised a shitty kid and made a high school dance slightly less cool.”
I let my words sink in, but I don’t think it’s working. I clarify, “Kinsley Adams destroys lives as a hobby. And now you took her family. You hurt her employees. You took her friends. You took me." I look at him with certainty. "She's fiercely loyal and drinks the blood of her enemies. And bro—she’s dining on you today.”
We sit in silence for a moment before I whisper, “You hurt people she cares about. If you’re lucky, Alana will kill you. Because if Kinsley takes over? You’ll live.” I shake my head. “Torturing you will get her off better than anything I can do.”
I almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
CHAPTER 39
Alana
Day 13
The warehouse is twenty minutes away from the nearest hospital and any help. Remote as a strategy. If someone is shot out here, there’s no hope of rescue.
Of course, that works two ways. It’s as much my advantage as his.
Behind me there’s a path of men crying out in pain, unable to move, or slowly bleeding on the floor. I prefer to shoot at the joints. If they survive, the healing process is slow, and they’ll be able to tell the weather by how much pain they’re in. See? It’s like I’m giving them a superpower as well as a punishment for pissing me off.
The final room serves as a manager’s space. Monitors fill the walls near the side. Windows toward the ceiling give the room an evil corporate vibe. Like there’s light outside, but you’ll never see it.
Grae was kneeling on the floor with a bag over his head. A mix of annoyance and anger courses through my muscles as I lift my gun.
Damn. The Deviant looks like shit. I’ve had surveillance on him for a while, but he’s lost weight. His clothes hang on him loose and wrinkled. And the deep, sunken dark circles under his eyes give him a raccoon-hopped-up-on-coke-and-hasn’t-slept-in-six-months vibe.
“Hello, Kinsley,” he says, smug and proud.
Grae groans, the bag moving side to side. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I already warned you.”
It’s weird hearing my name, but it’s not enough to throw off my mission or game.
“Grae, you okay?”
“Yeah. I have a headache and my knees hurt from kneeling this long.”
I grin and the words come flying out. “That’s ’cause you’re not a pro.”
“Ha ha,” my boyfriend grumbles under his hood. Then adds, “I’m very much a pro. I’ve got an MVP ring to prove it and everything.” I roll my eyes but keep my gun trained on the Deviant. He has a gun pointed at Grae’s head, but the safety’s on.
