Page 252 of Filthy Feck


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“The cops—”

“They’re here. Tryn too and—”

“How?” I rasped.

“How? That’s all you can ask me? You got her killed, you fucking cunt.”

“I need to know,” I snarled, willing to take her insults on the chin but needing answers nonetheless. “Did she… Could she have…”

“This wasn’t suicide,” she spat. “It was to the back of her head.” This time, the wail that keened from her had me shuddering in response to her grief. “She— Her— Oh, God. How am I supposed to live without her? How? Brady—what am I going to tell him?”

When she started sobbing again, the purest dose of guilt hit me like I’d snorted a gram of fentanyl. I closed my eyes as I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Minerva.”

But she didn’t want to hear it, and I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “You did this. You brought this to us. She’s deadbecause of you.”

My mouth trembled as I turned to Conor when a hand cupped my shoulder. “What is it?”

“Fuck you, Star. Fuck you. I hope they do to you what they did to her, you fucking bitch.”

When she cut the line, I was almost relieved. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t hang up on her. Not after…

Swallowing, I whispered, “Ovianar was executed.”

53

CONOR

“Did I hear that right?”

The question didn’t come from me or Cin, but Troy.

I stared at the tree where her scope was glinting in the sun, wondering how the hell she’d heard Star when she’d practically whispered what had happened to the woman we’d only just left in London.

Fuck—was her blood on our hands?

It seemed likely.

We showed up years after the murders of Kuznetsov and Belyaev and she was dead the next day?

“They’re cleaning house,” D intoned, ignoring Troy.

“Yeah,” I rasped, watching Star with concern.

“Try Dagda again,” she ordered, rubbing her brow.

Deep in her eyes, I saw her misery and guilt. I wished I could do something to take away the pain, but I knew too well that nothing did that. Only time, and even then, that didn’t always work.

Needing to help her, I nodded and hit dial on my phone again. Barely a couple rings sounded in my ear when a bullet shot at the car, inches away from Star’s feet.

Automatically, I grabbed her and dragged her to the ground. Cin slipped into a crouch too, her scowl deep, her anger growing.

“It’s Troy,” she clipped, but she remained stationed behind the SUV. “She’s fucking around.”

“Answer my question. Ovianar’s dead?” Troy spat.

“You remember her, then?” D snapped.

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