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“Absolutely not!” Stella hisses, practically vibrating with rage. “You must be out of your mind if you think we are going to allow this. You’re nothing! You’re no one, and you have no right to—”
“You will regret this,” Alexander cuts in, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. “You littlebitch. I know you’re responsible for this. You and your… men must have killed Troy.”
Malice shakes his head. “We’re just the messengers. We don’t know how it happened. Lots of weird shit goes on in the backwoods. We were never seen around there.”
A grin tugs at my lips, although I don’t let it take over. Malice’s words are a subtle nod to all the work Vic did making sure that there’s absolutely no evidence connecting us to Troy’s death. The house was decimated, leaving no fingerprints and nothing more than a pile of ash and bones, and there’s no footage that could possibly tie us to that location. All the reasons that Troy was so hard to find played into our favor when it came time to end him. There was no one around to witness his violations of Willow, but that also means there was no one to witness us murdering him.
The Copelands will never be able to link us to Troy’s death, and Malice is making sure they know that.
Alexander is fuming, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His face is red, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead has turned to beads that are trickling down his temples. He’s probably never been in a physical fight in his fucking life, but right now he looks like he wants to punch someone in the face.
Stella stares off at the cityscape in the distance, which is clearly visible from our rooftop vantage point. Her face crumples a little, like it’s finally hitting her that her son is dead and not coming back. A few wrinkles manage to form despite all the Botox I’m sure she’s been pumped full of, and it makes her look older, probably closer to her actual age.
“Troy…” She makes a little noise, covering her mouth with her hand again. “I can’t believe it. My boy.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” I snap. I move closer to her, suddenly even more pissed off by the first real hint of sadness I’ve seen from her all night. “Don’t act like he was some innocent little boy who got caught up in the wrong shit. You raised a fucking monster. Whether you knew who he was on the inside or just turned a blind eye to it, your son was a piece of shit.”
She looks taken aback, her eyes wide, but I’m not fucking done. All the helpless rage I felt when I watched Willow be snatched away in that Jeep, or when we burst into Troy’s cabin and found her naked on the floor, is surging out of me, finally given a release.
“She’s worth more than all of you,” I growl. “And it’s about fucking time you realize she’s not someone you can step on. She’s not your pawn. Now she’s playing on the same level you are, with the same kinds of resources you all like to throw around. The only difference is, she has the three of us to back her up.”
Olivia and the Copelands are all staring at us, stunned looks on their faces. I know they’ll rally soon enough and start trying to find some way out of this corner we’ve boxed them into, but like Alexander said, this isn’t the time or the place. Hell, they probably won’t even publicly acknowledge that their son is dead tonight, since it would ruin the optics of their party.
So for tonight, there’s nothing they can do except glare at us like they’re trying to burn us alive with just their eyes.
Willow reaches down, giving my hand a squeeze. I can feel the slight tremor in her hand from all the adrenaline that must be coursing through her, but her voice is steady as she speaks again.
“You did this, you know,” she says quietly, addressing her grandmother. “I never wanted to be part of your world, not once I realized what it was truly like. I asked you—beggedyou—to let me go, and if you had, I’d be long gone with my men by now. You never would’ve seen me again. Never would’ve had to deal with me. But you insisted I become part of your world.” She takes a breath, and the gold of her dress gleams as it shifts a little. “So now I am. I have everything Troy once had, and I intend to use it. I’ll see you at the next board meeting.”
With that, she releases my hand and turns on her heel to leave.
Malice, Vic, and I follow right behind her, more than ready to be done with this place. But before we can get far, Olivia jerks herself out of her frozen state and rushes toward us. She grabs Willow’s arm, yanking her granddaughter around to face her.
“You’ve impressed me,” she says, although it’s definitely not pride glinting in her hazel eyes. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be so devious. So gutsy. But you’ll never survive in this world.”
I move in, putting myself between Olivia and Willow, making her let go of Willow’s arm or risk me doing it for her.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I snap. “I’ve never known anyone like Willow. She’s a goddamned warrior. And if you’d paid enough attention, you would’ve known that too.”
Malice growls under his breath in agreement, and Vic nods. The three of us close ranks around Willow, blocking her from view of her grandmother as we make our way toward the elevator, and I can tell from the whispered voices around us that despite Olivia’s and the Copelands’ best efforts to keep their masks of polite civility in place, everyone here knows that some shit just went down.
Good. Because we’re just getting started.
16
WILLOW
We pile backinto the elevator, and I can feel the attention of everyone at the party on us, watching as we step inside. It makes my pulse race, being this on display, but I try not to let it rattle me—at least, not outwardly.
I keep my head high, my shoulders back, and Malice punches the button for the floor we want, letting the elevator doors slide closed.
Once we’re out of view of everyone, I let out a small breath of relief, but for the most part, we all stay quiet. We did what we came to do, but until we’re out of the building, it won’t feel safe to relax.
The guys stick close to me, keeping me surrounded as if the three of them are some kind of human shield.
We walk out of the building, passing by the valet station and heading toward the car. I can feel the tension building in the air between us as we reach it, all the unspoken words we’ve been holding inside since we left Olivia and the Copelands behind bubbling up.
Vic opens one of the back doors for me, and I duck inside the car, sliding across the seat to let him climb in beside me. Ransom and Malice are up front, Malice behind the wheel like he usually prefers to be, and as soon as all the doors slam closed, Ransom tips his head back and lets out a wordless sound of victory.
