Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“I have a better idea!”
I darted inside and found myself standing in a guest bedroom if the lack of personal touches was anything to go by. A modest queen-size bed took up the middle of the room, the end side facing the balcony. I darted around it, putting that flimsy excuse for a barrier behind us.
“I’ve got an offer for you, Everleigh, and it’s the same one I’ve got for everyone else. Confess.”
Everleigh lunged over the headboard. Whipping around, I snatched a lamp off the nightstand and lobbed it at her head.
“Ahh!” It shattered on her skull, dropping her like the flat-back evil skank she was.
Everleigh moaned and rolled on the bed, clutching her forehead.
“As... I was saying,” I huffed. “You and I both know it doesn’t matter if Wolf shuts down the site. A hundred more will go up in their place. It also doesn’t matter if you kill me. I’ve got my father’s laptop. I know every Rogue in the world, and I told them all what you’ve done.”
Rage bled into her eyes as fierce as the blood dripping through her fingers.
“They’ll all come after you one after the other until you’re sleeping under spotlights because you’re terrified of your shadow.” I stepped back, climbing a raised platform that housed the sitting area. “Or you can confess what you’ve done. And I mean all of it. Tell the police that you framed my guys. Force Wolf to give up Victor.
“Do all of that, and we close the chapter on the sad, sorry period where we ever knew each other. You go your way and I’ll go mine. Neither of us will chase revenge.”
She laughed. “What bullshit are you spouting, Sinclair? I’m not confessing anything to anyone. Maybe those brainless morons downstairs believe an eighteen-year-old girl took over the largest criminal organization in the world, but I’m not that stupid. The second you open your mouth and tell people like Leon Dumont that they have to bow to you, they’ll stick a gun in it.
“Besides, even if it is true,” she said, grinning. “I can afford bodyguards. I’ll be just fine.”
If she thought that’d upset me, she was wrong. I smiled back.
“Is that your final answer?” I said softly. “Before you reply, I’d like to give you one last chance to do the right thing—confess your sins. Because if you don’t, Everleigh... I’ll break you.
“I’ll take apart everything you know. Destroy all that you love. Reduce you to the weakest, most pathetic simpering version of yourself.”
Her grin dimmed.
“You’ll look back at this moment for the rest of your life and remember that you had a choice. And you chose so wrong.
“Last chance. Are you going to confess, or am I going to rip what’s left of your desiccated heart out of your chest?”
She laughed. “What are you going on about? You don’t scare me, Sinclair. You’re just a daddy-less, boyfriend-less, fiancé-less waste of space.”
“And you’re just a dumb bitch who went on a decade-long crusade to avenge a man who’s not dead.”
Her face twisted, gleeful mask cracking for a fraction of a second.
“That’s right, Everleigh. Your father didn’t die that day. All this time, you’ve had it so wrong.”
She glared at me, her bewilderment over what new game I was playing written all over her face. “My dad isn’t dead? That’s the best you can do? This is you breaking me? Fucking hell, you’re pathetic.”
I blinked lazily. “On that day in June, Everton and my father met for their final showdown. It was an ugly, nasty fight that ended up with Everton in a pool of his own blood. Yes, my father thought he killed him. Two shots to the chest would put down anyone, but on that day, it didn’t. After Alistair left, Everton was found, saved, and given a chance to run without anyone looking for him—the feds, the Rogues, my dad. He took it.”
Everleigh sat up, dropping her hand. I hissed at the angry, weeping gash on her forehead. “Whatever you’re trying to do, stop. This delusion you’re spinning is embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” I laughed. “That’s the right word. It is embarrassing that you spent all this time, money, and hatred on avenging a man but zero cents on a private investigator to turn up if he was really dead.”
“He is dead! After your piece-of-shit father shot him, he set fire to his body! We had to bury ashes.”
“Someone was burned and buried, but it wasn’t Everton,” I said clearly. “My grandmother told me everything. I admit, I didn’t give a shit. Who cares if you’re a clueless idiot and Everton is still alive? That knowledge came too late to save my father and sister.” My throat choked. “W-what did it matter?”
It took me a beat to collect myself. “But eventually, I accepted that I was wrong. It did matter because telling you would do the most important thing of all. Hurt you.”