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Conor:Why?
Star:I got to them when they were young lol. They’re used to me being toxic. At some point, I’ll alienate her again. Katina too. I think they’ll come back. But I never know for certain.
Star:Savannah wouldn’t have made up with me if I hadn’t shared what went down with the Sparrows.
Conor:Don’t we always have to justify why we do the things that we do if it hurts other people?
Star:Is that how love is supposed to work?
Conor:I don’t think love is ‘supposed’ to be easy.
Star:If it’s a struggle, then what’s the point?
Conor:Two years ago, I’d have agreed with you.
Star:What changed?
Conor:I met you.
2
STAR
IN TOO DEEP - SUM 41
SUMMER
“It didn’t haveto be this way,” I sang as I hauled the limp deadweight along the shiny parquet floor of Midlothian Palace’s entrance hall.
Ignoring the lump's groans when we reached the grand staircase, I dragged him up each step, aware that his head cracked against the edge every time.
Sometimes, you didn’t have to work harder, just smarter.
“You could have just told me who he is.”
A garbled reply was his only response.
In all fairness, Prince Edward of Midlothian couldn’t speak freely right now. His face was taped up like the rest of him with cling wrap. He had a few air holes, but I’d squished his features up nice and tight to compress him as much as possible.
The human sausage continued moaning with each step and, by the end, I’d admit, I was starting to moan too—from sheer exertion.
“Never heard of cardio?” I panted when we made it to the midway landing of the staircase where it flattened out before going up to another mezzanine level.
He grunted in reply.
Me? I just planted my hands on my knees and tried to recover my breath.
I’d recently gotten back into the game, and torture was a work of art that required not only skill but a strong constitution. My ass wasn’t as fit as it used to be, and I was feeling that at the moment.
When my breathing was under some semblance of control, I turned to face the palace ahead of me. Beautiful, ornate, but the best part? It was currently a dead zone thanks to this clever piece of tech I’d borrowed from Conor—none of the CCTV were working, none of the alarms. The guards were watching rehashed versions of last night’s footage, and I had a good ninety minutes before the next man came on patrol.
Ninety minutes to make Prince Eddie talk.
Ninety minutes to break him.
I used to be good at breaking people.
Some people in the CIA called me The Nutcracker, and it had nothing to do with cracking code. But I had to admit, Prince Ludwig and Ke Jintao had held out on me.
