Page 95 of Fang Fatale

"Aren't you?"

"I took the bounty."

His shoulders loosen just enough to notice.

"I kept the girl."

For the first time all evening, his expression cracks.

Not with fear.

With confusion.

Exactly where I want him.

He hesitates.

"You're here for her."

I shrug. "Technically, I'm here for the bounty. But honestly, you're more interesting."

He studies me for a long moment, as though he's trying to decide whether I'm bluffing.

"We could work something out, you know. You hand her over, I take my fiancée home, and you can fade back into your self-pity. Isn't that what you want?"

There it is.

Not the witness.

Not the girl.

His fiancée.

He still believes she's something he misplaced.

I smile, slow and fanged.

"Oh, Leland. I have never wanted anything less."

His finger trembles on the trigger. I can almost feel the panic rippling off him.

"You're not going to kill me."

"Why not?"

He straightens, trying for bravado. "Because you lost your stomach for it. That's what they all say about you, Alaric. You got soft."

I let the silence stretch between us. My eyes burn, the way they always do before things go sideways.

"You know what I love about rumors, Leland?"

He doesn't answer.

"They're almost never true."

Before I can blink, I'm on him. The gun buckles in my hand, and the shot tears a ragged hole through the wall behind me. My fingers curl beneath his chin, tipping his head back. He opens his mouth to say something clever⁠—

—but footsteps scrape across the wooden floor.