Page 19 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“You want information?” My voice is steady. “Look somewhere else, I’m not a fucking snitch.”

She just made an enemy far more dangerous than she realizes.

And when this is over, when I've given her exactly what she thinks she wants, I'm going to make sure she pays for desecrating my friends' memories.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

Will be avenged.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TOREN

“So young,” she says with fake sympathy dripping like poison from her tongue. “Four lives lost.”

I tear my gaze from the photos of my dead friends and scowl up at this smug bitch.

Grief is like glitter. At the start it's everywhere, on your hands, clothes, in your hair and across every corner of your life. You try to clean it and wash it away so you can get a sense of order back. But then, one day, you move something or pass by a cafe and there it is again. A tiny sparkle that catches the light and reminds you of what you've lost.

It doesn't go away completely. You learn to live with it, to carry it gently like I am now.

“What the fuck do you really want?” I grit out through clenched teeth.

A devious look enters her eyes, cold, calculating, predatory, and I can see exactly who she is beneath the badge and the suit.

She's a heartless monster.

She doesn't care about anyone. Not Kellan. Not the people who've died. Not justice.

All she cares about is closing cases and basking in the glory of taking down her targets. This woman is all about her career, her reputation, her victories.

Not once has she offered condolences for Kellan, the man she used as a pawn and discarded the moment he stopped being useful. His life meant nothing to her. His safety even less.

Xaden may be a killer. May be ruthless, brutal and terrifying.

But he's not shallow like her.

He doesn't hide behind lies and false righteousness. He doesn't pretend to be something he's not.

This bitch? She wears her badge like armor while doing things just as evil as any criminal she hunts.

“I want you to help me bring down your family and your boyfriend's.”

The casual way she says it, like she's asking me to pass the salt, makes rage simmer in my veins.

“And if I don't?”

The fucker John chuckles and I shoot him a scathing look that wipes the amusement right off his face.

“You think you know who I am.” The bitch stands and brushes invisible wrinkles from her suit jacket with practiced superiority. “I know everything, Miss Kellar.”

I scoff, the sound harsh and mocking.

“You can act like an entitled brat and try to best me, but you'll fail like many before you.” She pauses, her smile turning vicious. “Just ask your friend Vivian.”

At the mention of Vivian's name, every muscle in my body tenses but I don't let it show. Don't give her the satisfaction.

“I always get what I want,” she finishes, her voice dripping with smug certainty.