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In one of the foster homes that I’d been in, all my foster mom had given me was bran flakes. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'd sworn to myself after I got out of there that I'd never eat it again, yet here I was.
Pride was a stupid thing.
I shoveled the bites in, shooting daggers at Stellan while I did so. It had been a story that I'd once told him, obviously very vaguely. But he'd known that on my least-favorite foods list, this was number one.
The buttermilk was almost helping me eat it, though. My foster mom had at least served it with milk so I wasn’t getting quite the same trip down memory lane with every bite.
After they realized they weren’t going to get anything out of me, they went back to talking about tonight's fight. I listened closely, noting every detail I could. Tonight's fight was a big one; it was bigger than the one that I'd already attended.
Paxton’s challenger was aptly named Scarface, and evidently, like his name, he was incredibly scarred from a car accident he’d been in a few years ago. He channeled all his rage from being disfigured into fighting, and he’d been tearing up his opponents left and right. The guys were all discussing the bets that they were putting down, and I was doing my best not to get up and start taking victory laps around the room, because oh, did I have plans for tonight.
It was going to be a two-for-one kind of night, and I’d always loved when that happened.
Paxton was going to lose tonight, and they were all going to forfeit their bets.
“A hundred thousand dollars? You must not think Paxton’s going to win,” I murmured as I slid my last bite of crap into my mouth.
Remington glanced at me. “Care to put down more? Oh, wait. You can’t really afford that now, can you?”
My insides burned at the reminder that my safety net was gone. I was still waiting to hear from my hacker friend. I’d been logging in every night at the library to see if she was on, but she hadn’t popped up yet.
“Nope. I can’t. But I’m still willing to bet something tonight,” I said calmly, wishing I had some orange juice, or a sip of water to wash down the terrible taste in my mouth.
“What’s that?” Paxton asked, looking intrigued.
“I’m willing to bet that Paxton loses tonight. And if he doesn’t, I’ll let you know where Carrie Atlas’s body is buried.”
They all sat up straighter at that.
Carrie had been the man in the video that went viral and turned the world against me for good. He was a state senator who had a penchant for little kids. My father had kidnapped him and tortured him slowly before killing him. The Demon had strapped him down to a table and made him pay.
Obviously, he’d forced me to assist.
Although the Demon had confessed to the murder, he’d never told anyone where he was buried. Or rather, the five different places parts of him were buried.
I was the only person who knew that.
Cain sat back in his chair, calmly folding his arms in front of him. "I'm intrigued, little devil. Go on," he drawled.
“I'm sure it would look good if you guys managed to unearth the secret somehow. Maybe you could give the info to your father, Remington. For a little political capital. Isn’t he all about that?” I asked. Remington's face was suspiciously blank. I wondered if that was because I was talking about knowing where the Demon had buried bodies…or was it because of his father? I made a note to look into that later on.
"The question is, what are you asking for if you win?" Cain pressed, examining me closer. I had to pull out all of my tricks when it came to Cain. The Demon had taught me how to hide my emotions well, but it always felt like Cain could see under my skin. He and the Demon had that in common.
“If I win, you all have to apologize to me on the green in the middle of campus. On your knees.”
Remington snorted and shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. It was funny to me too, thinking about them on their knees.
If I had my way though, that would be a common occurrence from here on out.
"Take the bet," Paxton said in a bored voice. "There's no way I'm losing to Scarface."
What was that saying?Pride cometh before the fall. That seemed fitting in this situation. I wondered how long it would take for them to stop underestimating me. For the kings to see that there was a queen in their midst.
I guess we would find out. The guys got up from the table and started to walk away. Cain paused and looked back at me when he’d made it halfway to the door. "We’re leaving at nine. Be ready," he said in a tone that brokered no argument.
I held in my scoff. "Actually, I'll be going separately tonight. Jenna and I are going together," I told him.
A slight grimace ran across his face as he debated whether to force me on this one. But I knew he wasn't going to offer to bring Jenna with us.
