And Callie finally looks at me, leaning so she can make eye contact between Silas and Jace. Her irises glitter bright with triumph.
“Do you know what this is?” she asks, her tone condescending. “I bet they didn’t even tell you about it. Or what happens if I walk out of here without giving it back.”
I don’t answer, instead opting for a question of my own. “Is that what it is? I thought it would look more like a key and less like a square vibrator.”
“So uncultured.” She scoffs. “This wallet has more money inside than you’ll see in three lifetimes.”
Because now she’s done it.
She’s shown her hand.
The drive glints once more as she lifts it higher, like she wants to be absolutely certain we all see it.
“Huh,” I laugh awkwardly, reaching behind my back as I say. “I wouldn’t know. Someone else makes investments on my behalf. I just bring them the cash.”
I’m quick on my draw, but I slow myself down since I have to aim between the wall of men in front of me.
The shot is clean.
Her eyes wide as she recognizes too late.
The shot cracks through the lobby and slams into the silence a heartbeat later.
Thunderous.
Ear-splitting as it echoes off the marble.
Glorious in its finality.
Callie crumbles, her head dropping as her knees give out.
Her body hits the marble floor in a heap of pastel and crimson, blood spreading fast beneath her. Dark red against bright white, like something obscene yet opulent.
For a moment, no one moves.
No one breathes.
I watch their reactions from behind, studying every muscle twitch. But with the cameras in this place, I don’t have time to stand around waiting for them to come to grips with my actions.
I step forward and crouch beside the body, careful not to step in the blood. It’s now that I choose to speak, quiet and even, hoping I’ll only have one body to clean up tonight.
My first words aren’t for my HimLock guys.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” I whisper to Callie St. James. “Crimson Bay is no place for people like you.”
Her eyes are open in shock, the light fading from her once bright irises.
The drive lies inches from Kieran’s foot, but he doesn’t bend to retrieve it, leaving it unclaimed as he processes.
Silas is the first to gather his wits, hand closing around my shoulder in a solid grasp. “We need to leave.”
I straighten, already filing away this issue as done, necessary.
As inevitable.
This was always going to be the outcome.
I click the safety of my gun back into place with a motion I don’t have to think about. It’s muscle memory, and so is the way my fingers slide over my phone screen.
