Page 106 of His Turn

Because I’m going to break Nadia Wolfe. I’m going to snap her in half. I’m going to drag her secrets out of her and use them to make her think about things she never wanted to face again.

I’m going to make her feel something.

It’s time for a new game and I’m going to win this one no matter what.

And when I’m done… I’m gonna make sure she’s begging for more. I’m gonna fuck her head up. Fuck her life up. And I won’t even feel bad about it.

I won’t feel anything, ever again.

So no… thank you, Nadia. For letting the man I’ve kept prisoner all these years out to play again.

I’m hungover at the funeral the next day. I wear a pair of sunglasses I bought at the drug store even though we’re inside the funeral home for the service. We bury our dead on the ranch and there’s no burying anything this time of year. After the service Luc’s body will go to the morgue to wait until spring.

I want to be sick. I’m not sure if it’s the thought of Luc being kept in that frozen crypt for the next few months or the fact that I drained two bottles of cheap whiskey last night. But I want to be sick.

My phone buzzes in the middle of the ceremony and what feels like a hundred faces turn in their chairs to look at me.

Disappointing Elias.

I grin and shrug, like the fuck-up I am, and glance at my screen. Margaret. She’s the last fucking person I need to talk to right now.

I refuse to make Margaret—dear, sweet, perfect mother-figure Margaret—a part of the life I left behind up here.

So I ignore it. I ignore all seven of her calls that come after. I ignore her as Nadia and I board the plane. I ignore her as we get off back in Denver. I ignore her all the way over to Nadia’s apartment.

“What are we doing here?” Nadia asks, when I pull up to the curb.

I slide my cheap shades down the bridge of my nose. “I’m dropping you off, Nadia. The game is over and you won. Congratulations. I’ve already transferred money into your bank account and Margaret made sure everything you had at the house was returned to your apartment. Have a nice life,” I say, finishing the speech I’ve been practicing in my head since she called me Master yesterday morning. “And don’t ever call me again.”

She stares at me, mouth open. But she shuts up, gets out of my car, and walks away.

“That’s right, bitch,” I jeer, saluting her back as she disappears inside. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”

I drive back to the Club, drop my car at the valet, and go inside—so fucking relieved to be home.

“Bric?” Margaret says, coming up to me as I make my way into the Black Room for a drink. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Sorry, Margaret,” I say, so fucking happy to see her face and not the ones I left behind up north. “I got caught up in shit. But I’m back now.”

“You have a visitor,” she says. “He’s been calling since yesterday. He came in a few hours ago and I let him wait in the White Room.”

“What?” I say, taking off my shades. “Who?”

She spreads her hands wide as she shrugs. “He says his name is Logan. He’s a friend of Nadia’s. He says he needs to talk to you and it’s urgent.”