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“Scarlett doesn’t fucking love you; she doesn’t love anyone—she isn’t capable of the emotion.”
“She said I was different.”
“If you believed her, you’re not only greedy, but a fool.” I shook my head, pulling my gun from its holster. “And your kid? Do you even care what happens to Jenny?” If I’d have known about the three-year-old from the beginning, I wouldn’t have approached him.
“You found out about her? But I—I.”
“Jenny is the only business we have left at this point.”
A shoulder came up. "She's better off without me."
"That wasn't my question." I cocked my gun, “Guess there’s nothing left to talk about.”
“Wait, what if I—” He twisted, his chair squealing in a desperate attempt to get closer to me. “I have information,” he licked his lips, “You asked me about Saul. I know when he meets his mistress. His favorite.”
“You told me there was nothing else.” I crooked an eyebrow upward. “Lying won’t change this.”
“I swear. Every Friday night, he meets her at Ironwood Manor. They have a standing appointment.”
“You expect me to believe that? After everything?”
I’d been able to discover little about Saul since Douglass’ revelation, but one thing was for certain—Saul was paranoid.
As Archon—second in command—of the Magnolia chapter, Saul kept round the clock bodyguard service and had a secret and spontaneous schedule.
I'd so far been unable to discover the location of his main home.
The only time you knew when and where he would be was at Magnolia councils—where he was never alone.
“Why would he do something so predictable?”
“I have no idea,” Garrett said, “but trust me, I met him there once. Scarlett may have manipulated me, but I got that—at least—from her.”
“I told you, I said, thinking of the text messages. The pictures of Summer. His fate was fucking sealed, as far as I was concerned. I pointed my gun. “I don’t trust you, Garrett.”
“Rook! Tell her?—“
The bullet entered his forehead, the quiet storm of my revulsion making me impatient. His last words were meant for Scarlett, not Jenny. He didn't give a shit about his own kid.
I’d been the one to protect her, not him, transporting her and her mother to a safe home three nights ago.
The man still didn't understand that he was just a tool to Scarlett. To The Veritas.
We all were.
‘AMAT BAMN was their weapon of choice—any method a tool, by any means necessary.
They would do and use anything to get what they wanted, and wouldn’t blink at the depravity of it.
And now that Douglass was dead, their sights were on Summer—and I had to protect her from that.
The fact that Garrett had managed to manipulate Summer into sending nudes…it was a punch of reality to my gut. Both Douglass and I were unaware of how deep they’d already sunk their claws into her.
And, as I focused on my own task—on my revenge—my mind kept going to her. Her silent fortitude at the grave. Her fierceness in the garden—those pictures.
The moment I saw them, I’d had one burning desire: to see her filthy and degraded, on her knees, begging me for my cock.
And I despised myself for it.
