Page 234 of Fatality

Scratch that, hell no.

I'd probably end up in the psych ward, locked alone in some silent room, away from the cars, the races, the blood—Her.

For the first time, in my twenty-eight years of living, breathing and killing, fucking her didn't end the twisted obsession I have—it made it worse.

But what she told me afterward?

About the night of the accident—what she could remember made me throw my steel table across my apartment.

I know what is like being hit by your own father.

Plus, that bastard Renji Akuro talked to her, got too close to her, and told her to contact him again.

He deserves to have his face buried in the fucking asphalt.

I rub my face.

I can't stop seeing her, those eyes burning with fire, with determination to get her brother justice, with unshed tears in her eyes.

When I mentioned the tears, she fucking kneed me in the balls.

Bitch.

Can’t even stay a day without hitting me.

I'm grateful for my pain dampeners, because otherwise I'd probably still be doubled over. Maybe I'd even have to drag myself into a Deadzone—or one of those illegal clinics in the Grid—and pay for a new pair of balls.

The questions Ren and I are trying to answer are simple.

How? Who? Why? What?

How did they know she would run downstairs?

Who targets a twelve-year-old child just to send a message? Who was Kyle, really?

Why her? Why Kyle?

What the fuck actually happened to Kyle?

Riven is working at her studio, she left after kneeing me in the balls.

I didn’t protest, I wasn’t in the shape anyway.

And I don’t want her to be in my way—or see whatever we will find.

I don't do it because I care about her.

I own her.

We have a deal, she doesn't let me go back to the silence, she stays and I help her.

Simple.

My jaw tightens and something in my chest twists.

I shake my head.

Varek and Neo are taking care of the gang, the business.