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Her limbs go lax, her body sags against my chest. I set the cloth aside and comb my fingers through her dark hair. The adrenaline leaks free of my muscles in spasms.

Now that the deed is done, Donavan exits the room, giving me a moment alone to mourn the loss of one of my own.

Inching up her skirt, I run my hand over her thigh, feeling the raised, scarred skin of her brand. Acute misery claws at my lungs. Tightens my chest. It’s not the refund of 1.5 million US dollars that pains me, though yes, money is my highest priority. It’s the time—my time—that I feel bleeding through my fingers, like Kayla’s blood stains them now.

I can always make more, earn more, become wealthier. However, time cannot be manufactured. When lost, there is no getting it back. There is no recovering the wasted minutes, hours. Days.

It’s true, I’m not getting any younger. A mirthless laugh falls from my mouth as I look over my aging hand. Compared to Kayla’s youthful skin, it’s an ugly and decrepit thing.

When one begins to feel the press of time, a sort of madness descends. Fear pervades the mind. Restlessness can cause you to misstep. But if funneled into your one purpose, that urgency sharpens your purpose, making the ability to focus on only what matters possible.

It also means you have very little patience left.

I roll the girl off me with a disgusted grunt and climb to my feet. Once I’ve adjusted my clothes, brushing away the stench of her death, I open the door and order Donavan to dispose of the body.

In the next room, another complication awaits. And according to time, I have none left to spare. “Open the door.” I issue this command to Micah, who sits guarded watch over the room.

Ryland Maddox occupies the center. Strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, gag fitted snug in his mouth, he sweats like a pig awaiting slaughter. I did try to make him feel at home. The lawyer loves his bondage. It’s one of the reasons why I had to meticulously arrange for one of his whores to be included as a victim in the investigation.

Marcy Beloff was not a test subject for Trifecta. She was an unfortunate mishap that resulted from too much playtime. Maddox enjoys pain. He enjoys inflicting it. And unfortunately for Marcy, the lawyer can get a bit too rough.

I went to great lengths to protect my investment in Maddox. Injecting Marcy with the serum, planting her body near a Dumpster. Having Alex King pass along the cause of death to the medical examiner, helping Avery believe that Marcy’s demise was accidental due to the drug.

It’s all so exhausting.

I’ve been too helpful to the sloppy lawyer. All so that he would secure a highly coveted political seat in the Commonwealth. I handed him the keys, a life of power and magnitude, and he pissed it away. His appetite his downfall.

“Ryland. Ryland.” I stand before him. “Two weeks with no word from you. I was starting to worry.”

His arms pull against the restraints, his head jerks back and forth as he grunts.

I’m sure he’s full of all sorts of excuses. He was in hiding. His attempts to remain in hiding were to my benefit, to protect me. I’m in no mood for excuses. We both know the truth.

He fears me more than prison.

“Somebody at the ACPD has it out for you,” I say to him. I circle the cross, letting my fingers trace his strained arms. “Ever since your fingerprint was recovered from one of the victims, it’s caused all sorts of problems for your campaign. I’m afraid that you won’t be able to argue your way out of this one.”

His head jerks back and forth, fighting against the gag. I help him along and pull it from his mouth.

He spits, and I pull my gloves from my pocket. I don’t want to touch his filth.

“You know I never laid a finger on any of your girls.”

I crane an eyebrow. “That’s a shame, considering you’re about to be charged with murder. You should’ve gotten your kicks while you could. It’s a terrible thing to do time for a crime you only wished you committed.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “You’re going to let me go down for this. Fine. I’ll work up my own defense. Represent myself.”

I grab the back of his head and grip his hair. “You’re still just as stupid as the day I pulled you out of that gutter of a law office.” I bang his head against the board. “Why do you think I’ve allowed you to live for as long as I have?”

His breathing speeds, his eyes bulge wide.

I tsk and step away, so that he can see me fully. “You’re going to be offered a deal, Ryland. The Commonwealth—though they’r

e eager to punish you for corrupting the system and making them look bad—doesn’t have their sights set on you.”

It finally registers in his thick skull. “I would never give you up,” he rushes to assure.

“I know you won’t.” I extend my hand, and Micah slaps a blade onto my open palm.

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