Page 25 of Sinner (Empire)


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“Find anything yet?” she questions, pressing her lips into a hard line.

“Would I still be sitting here if I had?” I snap.

“Jesus Christ, Sawyer,” she grunts. “Don’t come at me with your bullshit. I was just checking in.”

“I don’t need you checking in, Cara,” I tell her. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you were giving up her location to Hartley Scott. All those attacks were on you, and had she not been so fucking terrified of being here, maybe she wouldn’t have taken off like she did.”

“Please,” Cara scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. “She was terrified because Zade was only days away from slaughtering her. It’s got nothing to do with me. I was only trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I can look after myself,” I spit, getting to my feet. “You should have come to me.”

“Lay off, Sawyer. I get that you’re pissed off about the whole situation and worried that she’s out there alone, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. You’ve been ignoring me for days and I’m over it. Yes, okay? You’re right. I should have come to you with everything, but I didn’t because I thought I was doing the right thing. How long are you going to hold that against me?”

“As long as it takes.”

Cara narrows her gaze at me, watching me all too closely. “You’re in love with her, too. Aren’t you?”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“I don’t get it,” she says. “Does she have a magical pussy or something? Why has she got all of you by the fucking balls?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you’re all letting yourself fall for a dead bitch,” she grumbles, inching away from me. “Tell me, how does it work? Is there a schedule? You each get to fuck her on alternating nights, or do you just go at it all together?”

“I swear to God, Cara. If you weren’t my sister—”

“What?” she cuts me off. “What the fuck would you do about it?”

My fist slams down on the dining table, and I fix her with a lethal stare, letting her see the fire burning in my eyes. “You’d already be fucking dead,” I roar. “How the hell can’t you see that? This isn’t a fucking game. This is Empire. Dad’s not here to protect you anymore. If you fuck up, there are real consequences, and you are pushing the fucking limits. I’m trying to protect you, Cara, but you’re making it too fucking hard.”

“I don’t need your—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I spit. “If it weren’t for me, Zade would have slit your throat the second he found out you betrayed him.”

Cara shakes her head. “No, he wouldn’t do that to me. Me and him . . . I mean something to him.”

“If you really think that, you’re more fucked in the head than I ever imagined. Zade’s been using you for years because you’re an easy screw and kept your mouth shut about it. He’s not in love with you, Cara. Wrap your head around that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“As soon as Oakley is gone, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll see,” she tells me, turning away, tears brimming in her eyes. “He just needs to fuck her out of his system, and when he steps up and completes his ritual, he’ll be under pressure to marry and produce an heir, and then he’ll come right back to me.”

Cross scoffs, walking past the dining table. “You think he’s going to settle for you?”

Fuck.

Cross and Cara have never liked each other, and while he’s right, he could have said it with a little more tact. Though, I suppose there’s never been anything subtle about Cross. It just irks me. Despite how frustrated I am with her right now, she’s still my twin sister.

Cara’s face falls, and I let out a heavy sigh, not having time to deal with her hurt feelings, when Zade calls out from his office. “Yo, I think I’ve got something.”

Dalton flies up off the couch as I push my chair back and step out from behind the dining table. We all race to Zade’s office and hover behind his desk, looking at footage of Oakley slipping onto a train in the Faders Bay station.

“Fuck,” Dalton rushes out. “She was back in Faders Bay? Right under our fucking noses.”

Zade nods. “Yep. I’ve got her Uber going right past the fucking hotel.”

“Shit,” Cross grunts. “Do we know which train she was on?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out,” Zade says.

“What’s the time stamp on that?” I question, pulling out my phone, more than ready to search up the train schedule.

Zade fast-forwards the footage before pausing right as the train departs. “6:15 departure,” he tells me.

Searching through the schedule, I find the right train and let out a heavy sigh, realizing this isn’t a local train, this one goes right across the fucking country. “Shit,” I mutter, searching through the list of possible stops and trying to figure out which one she would have taken.

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