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Forcing myself through the motions until an hour later, nearly silent footsteps approached behind me.
"Took you long enough." I didn’t turn around, though I itched to point my gun at him. But they wouldn’t kill me, not yet. I was too well protected. Something else Douglass had taught me how to do.
There was a pregnant pause as Tucker took in the sight, his expensive cologne divulging his identity. "You found out."
"Of course I did."
"How did you know they would send me?”
"I knew you'd volunteer."
Tucker and I had somewhat of a competition going. The Veritas had a secret list of things they wanted done. You earned credit with them by discovering what—or who—they wanted done, then taking care of the jobs before they had to lift a finger.
I usually dealt in secrets, the Veritas’ main trade, but Tucker took on anything.
I knew he would be eager to fulfill this one.
He appeared by my shoulder, staring down in regret. “I suppose you'll expect me to report this to Emerson.”
"I wouldn't have waited otherwise." The body was already rolled up in thick, waterproof canvas, tied with rope. I would let them deal with the disposal. “If it helps, you can take the credit.”
“You know I won’t." Tucker's eyes widened as I stood from the chair that Garrett had once occupied, noting my satisfied look. “You wanted them to know you’d killed him?”
I didn't answer, the silence between us palpable.
He finally broke it. “You won't mind if I verify the kill?”
"Go ahead."
Tucker knelt down, pulling aside the brown skin of the canvas, the large bullet wound in his forehead ugly and black.
“His phone?”
“Why ask stupid questions, Tucker?” I’d already destroyed the phone, and with it, the pictures of Summer. I would also check his home to make sure there were no copies. No one was ever going to find those.
"Why didn't you hide the body?” Tucker asked again, trying to figure me out. Probably so he could run off to Emerson to tell him. “They might never have known you found out he was using the girl.”
"Because I want them to know that I'm always one step ahead,” I hissed.
“Don’t tell me…” Tucker jerked upwards, twisting, stumbling towards me in astonishment. "You don't have the mark?"
My lips twisted in a sneer, my eyes lowering to his chest where I was now certain the OG insignia, along with a magnolia flower, was burned into his skin.
Once the Magnolia owned you, they branded you like cattle.
And they owned almost everyone. Even Douglass had the mark.
"Is that so surprising?"
"Yes."
I stepped forward, meeting his gaze with hard eyes. Revulsion and nausea thickened my voice in a rare show of anger. "I will never be branded. Do you understand?"
His nostrils flared, his hand gripping my arm. "How is it possible that you've gotten this far without it?"
"Because," I looked away, now not wanting him to see the pain filling my gaze, the wrenching agony in my chest. The last man I ever admired was now gone. Once again, the one person I loved, dead. "I never needed it."
"Douglass." He didn't need me to explain it.
