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Randos didn’t end up at Feverpoint.

We got the scum of the earth, people who deserved their last moments to be filled with terror and pain.

The pigeon nodded. “He ran an alpha male podcast. But he’d also been caught attempting to replace Isaac Dumont.”

“Doing what?” Cyrus was getting annoyed, her jaw tensed.

“He was building a client list and a stock of girls — his own private sex slaves. He learned it all from Isaac’s private parties and auctions.”

My blood boiled at the thought. I’d been thrilled when the Violence took out the trash last summer. Valemont — and the world — was better for it. But we knew that cutting the head of the supply chain wouldn’t stop the demand.

And some walking bag of human trash was going to try and fill the hole in the market.

“We wanted him dispatched of. Quickly. Before he could gain a hold.” The pigeon’s eyes narrowed, knowing we understood. “That’s how he ended up in your care.”

Smirking, I looked over at Tess and licked my lips. “We showed him some Feverpoint hospitality!”

Holding up her hands, the pigeon lifted her chin with certainty. “That is all this pigeon knows.”

My eyes flicked around her face, scanning for the truth. It was certainly all the woman was willing to tell us. All she knew? That remained to be seen.

But a name was all we really needed. We could set Tracer on this loser’s ass and see who this toxic dickhead was before we — really, my Trinket — drove a knife through his chest cavity.

Looking over at her, I could see the horror on Tess’s face. We all knew terrible men like Jeremy existed, we’d seen what happened to Isaac. Some of us had even read the leaked files. But there was something different about confronting reality.

It’s why we loved to hide away in Feverpoint.

We made the rules. The only thing that was real in that place was pain and vengeance.

Cyrus growled her frustration, grabbing the pigeon’s brown robes by the collar. “No, you know more. Where the fuck did the DMT come from? What do your masters know?”

A flash of surprise washed over the pigeon’s face. She shook her head. “The pigeon flies blind.”

“Ask the cards.” Cyrus hissed through gritted teeth.

Knowing who she was speaking too, Nash pulled the deck of cards from the inner pocket of her suit jacket. She gave the cards a swift shuffle, letting them cascade into each other before quickly cutting the deck and grabbing one.

Turning it around in her fingers, the inked tip of her middle finger over the text at the bottom, Nash nodded. “It’s the truth.”

Tess and I stretched our necks to peek at the card.

Ace of Swords. A hand extended from a dark cloud, holding a long sword adorned with a gold crown and laurels. It invoked nobility.

Scoffing, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. It was silly, pulling a card for something like this.

But after everything that had happened, after Tess came back to us, a part of me wanted to believe.

Dropping the pigeon’s robes, Cyrus huffed and took a step away. “If you ever tell your all seeing bosses we were here, we’ll slit your throat in broad fucking daylight.”

With a nod from Cyrus, I stepped away from the door.

In seconds, the pigeon rose from her chair and bolted for the door. This time, I resisted the urge to slam her body back into the metal chair. She gripped the doorframe and slingshot herself down the hallway and into the pounding music of The Station.

Wiping my lips, I smirked. “What fun. We should play with the birds more often.”

Cyrus shoved my chest with her palm. “We’ve got to get Tracer on this guy, like now.”

Just as Cyrus was approaching the glass door, four hefty bodyguards filled the frame. “Not so fast.”