“Getting the job here wasn’t enough. To get the intel they needed, they had to get close to you. They’ve been sneaking around since you started letting Rip into your life,” Shawn says. His voice is gentler, and that look of superiority has disappeared, like he’s making an effort to break the news more softly now. Fuck that.
“So Rip and Thomas belong to the Requiem,” I say slowly, speaking my thoughts aloud. The room suddenly lurches, and I clutch the bedspread to keep from falling.
I continue flipping through the sheets of paper. It’s birth records, adoption papers, and contracts that Emma and George Redgrave made to ensure they keep the secrets a secret. Nothing about Rip and Thomas being the ones to give away Crowncrest information.
I shut the folder with a thud. “This doesn’t make them the mole. It only proves they aren’t who they say they are.”
Shawn’s mouth falls open in shock, as if I’ve shot him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“I’m not. Sure, they lied, but that doesn’t mean they’re the reason Aralynn’s in jail. It doesn’t mean they’re the reason our last few jobs have been compromised.”
“What else could it mean?” His eyes widen in disbelief, as if I’ve grown an extra eye. “No, I don’t have the concrete proof they did it, but I don’t need it. They’ve been undercover, lying to all of us for months. That alone is enough to act.”
I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head in my hands. He’s right. Two enemies living in our headquarters and having access to all types of sensitive information is enough cause for taking them out. Regardless of whether they were giving intel—which they probably were—not acting would deem us as weak. We can’t have another instance to make us look that way, not after the damage I’ve caused.
I wipe my sweaty palms against my pants, my heartbeat quickening at the sheer thought of laying a hand on the Wri—I mean Redgraves.You couldn’t even avenge Sylvie, how will you punish Rip?
I knew our relationship would never last, and I had increasing suspicions he wasn’t who he said he was. It was a gut feeling, one I pushed down constantly because I didn’t want to deal with it. Now I have no choice but to face it.
“I’m sorry, King,” Shawn mumbles. “I’m sorry that lying douche used you, but it’s time to get out of la-la land.”
Congratulations to Shawn. He finally gets to be right about something.
“Alright.”
He pauses. “Alright?”
I stand and slip my coat on, my jaw clenched. “Alright.”
“So you agree we can’t let this slide?”
I nod silently as I zip the zipper. Shawn’s got this look like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“Great.” He stands up, still eyeing me skeptically. “I can finally choke the smug grin off Rip’s stupid face.”
In a flash of anger, I lunge toward my friend, hands colliding with his chest. His back slams against the wall, too shocked to move, and I lean into his face.
“You won’t lay a motherfucking fingertip on him,” I grit. He flinches away from me as I crowd him, still shoving him against the wall. “I will handle Rip and Thomas. You will keep your hands to yourself and your big mouth shut until I handle it. No one knows anything about what we’ve found out, and if they do, I’ll make sure you can never speak again. Got it?”
Shawn’s lips curled in a silent snarl. “Yeah.”
I let go of him. If he lays a fucking cuticle on Rip, I’ll cut his tongue out. For his sake, I hope he doesn’t assume I’m bluffing.
I storm out of my bedroom, not bothering to let Shawn know where I’m going. We planned to meet at the mini-golf course to film another video since the first did so well, only now there will be fewer putt-putt and more flying fists.
It’s dark when I arrive, but the golf course’s neon lights cast a vibrant glow on the grounds. Rip and Thomas are having a conversation while they wait, but something about their conversation gives me pause. They haven’t realized I’m here, and yet they’re huddled together whispering as if they’re discussing the whereabouts of a bomb they planted.
Have they always been like this, and I was too blind to see it?
Thomas is the first to notice me. His back is straight, and he’s giving that same stiff wave he’s been giving. I don’t know what exactly changed, but the guy is jumpy around me.
I take a seat on the bench beside Rip, but keep a noticeable distance between us. His eyes fall to the gap, and he doesn’t comment on it, but his jaw tightens.
“Hey, Kingsley,” he says.
I nod up at him. There’s this weird quiet between us, and honestly, I don’t feel like breaking it. I know they notice something’s up, but they don’t have the will to say anything about it? Then neither do I.
“Ready to start?” Thomas asks.
