AfterI answered their questions.
Four sets of eyes darted between my strands of hair to blaze along my face.
I didn’t think my guys could tense any more. They did. Griffin and Brady actually vibrated beside me.
Layla begged.
I breathed in deeply. It wasn’t enough, so I inhaled again.
My friends—not one of them—breathed. Bobo’s soft deep-drugged-sleep snore was the only sound for several seconds.
Layla shot to her knees. Leaned over the corpse. And stabbed it through the heart. Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
With her knife still lodged in its chest, her hand wrapped around the hilt, her ribs heaved.
When she pulled out the blade, very little blood trickled from the wounds. His heart had already stopped pumping.
I’d left my blade buried to the hilt under his chin.
Layla sank onto her butt. Glanced from me to Griffin.
Griffin didn’t say a word.
Brady asked, each word crackling like a live wire.
I took a few moments. After another deep breath, I nodded slowly.
Griffin became so rigid he bounced on the bed.
I said.
Brady was shaking his head angrily. Hunt was staring hard at a blank patch of carpet. And Layla was glowering at the face of thedead man on my floor—likely Magnum, but who the fuck knew anymore?
Griffin … Griffin barely breathed, barely blinked.
I turned to face him. I said softly, still in our private chat. We didn’t need anyone else knowing about this.
