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What happened between us doesn’t matter. Emotions don’t govern me or define my actions anymore. They can’t. I have to play my part. I’m a killer. Alaric’s my boss, and I have instructions to follow. All that matters is that the Dukes pose a threat to the Killers Club. Threats must be eliminated.
I also have a personal agenda. Item number one on my list is discovering everything the Dukes know about Spencer. From their bullshit explanation about them protecting people, I assume Spencer hired them, hence why Bram was sniffing around the Bexley mansion. But what exactly do their services entail, and how can I use their knowledge about Spencer to my advantage? Until I have those answers, I’ll push aside how their lives are ticking down.
But, before I can probe into their business, I have to make them buy my cover story. Cue an Oscar-winning performance. I sniffle, giving the illusion of wrestling with my composure, and let a rogue tear roll down my cheek. Making yourself cry is easy with enough practice.
Under their scrutiny, I control my every move, only letting them see what I want them to. Their eyes don’t look away from me. Their connection to the woman they think I am blinds Freddie and Seb to my true nature, which I can exploit. They both claim to want to protect me, yet they’ve overlooked how I’ve been close to every crime scene. They mustn’t be as good as they think they are—well, except for Callen. That fucker is putting me on edge with his questions. I’ll have to watch out for him. If he crosses me, I’ll string him up by his Prince Albert.
Jesus, Ivy!How can a murderous thought make your inner thighs tingle?Pull yourself together!
“Take your time,” Freddie encourages me, but he’s not pushy. He’s gentle and patient. His eyes soften like he’d wait all night if that’s what it took. “We’re listening.”
I avoid looking in Callen’s direction. His beard has grown longer since I last saw him, giving him an even more rugged appearance. His shirt and dirty blonde hair are flecked with my colleague’s blood, reminding me of what he’s capable of. I have to be careful. If I stare at him too long, I'll launch across the room to finish him off. Callen sees the darkest parts of me. He made that clear when he forced his way into my house, and we fucked like wild animals. He’s unpredictable and breaks the rules. His recklessness makes him a threat.
I take a deep breath, readying myself for the performance I’ve prepared for.
“Five years ago, me and my sister were in a car crash,” I begin.
Freddie already knows this part of my story. Remember my motto about lies? The closer you keep to the truth, the easier it is.
“But you said you were an only child,” Seb says.
I’ll have to talk my way out of this. For once, it’d be good if he was like other men who never paid attention and only cared about getting into my knickers.
“I am…now.” I pull the sympathy card. “My sister, Ivy, died that night, and it’s easier to say I’m an only child than to remember what happened.”
Seb’s gaze softens. He and Freddie are eating out of the palm of my hand.
“Her death wasn’t an accident,” I say. “We were pushed off the road.” My voice breaks. This time, I don’t have to act as my memories flood back. I don’t talk about what happened that night. Not to Alaric. Not to Stephanie. Not to anyone. “He wanted her dead.”
Freddie’s large hand squeezes my knee. Electricity fizzes between us, just like it did when we first met, but I’m not the same girl anymore. The girl who believed in true love and happy endings is gone. I numb myself to the fireworks. I block them out. The men surrounding me are a group of predators who wouldn’t hesitate to turn on me if they learned the truth.
“Who did it?” Seb growls. His whole body tenses on my other side.
“Ivy’s ex,” I say. “He was the possessive type. She was an artist, and they met at a gallery opening. He promised he’d help her. Their whole romance was a whirlwind. It only lasted a few months, and she left him when she found out what kind of person he was.” I blink away tears. “But he didn’t want her to leave.”
“Who is he?” Seb asks. His protectiveness is almost cute. “We’ll kill him!”
“Matteo Santiago,” I reply, and here comes the kicker... “He’s already dead.”
Matteo was the first man I killed on a solo Killers Club mission. There’s poetic justice to threading him into my cover story, even if it’s reckless. Matteo reminded me of Spencer. He was a nasty bastard who presented himself to the world as an esteemed art dealer, yet art wasn’t all he dealt. He trafficked many women who ended up dead. I unleashed my anger on him. His acting as a surrogate for Spencer was therapeutic, but nothing would compare to the real thing.
“His name sounds familiar,” Freddie murmurs, scratching his chin and drawing attention to his impeccable jawline that I shouldn’t be concentrating on right now. “His killer delivered his head to an art gallery in a cardboard box.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from correcting him. A cardboard box doesn’t do it justice—it was a beautifully wrapped package tied with a pretty purple bow. Purple was Daisy’s favourite colour.
I’m not surprised Freddie heard about his death. The newspapers loved the story and lapped up all the gruesome details. Usually, the Killers Club flies under the radar, but our client wanted to make an impact and splash Matteo’s face over the front pages. After killing him, Alaric sent me to work overseas.
“On the night we left London…” I hesitate. This is when it gets painful. I shudder, despite trying to keep my shit together. “Matteo and his friends—I don’t know who they were, the details are a blur—dragged the two of us from the wreckage…”
I see Spencer’s and the other monster’s faces. Their features twist and contort like demons. Shadowy figures loom in the moonlight, peering through the tree branches splayed like witches’ fingers. I hear their voices. Their laughter. Her screams.
Freddie senses my discomfort. “You don’t have to go on.”
But I do. I have to make it convincing.Give them what they want. A cold sweat breaks over my skin as I continue, “When they were…done…with her, they left me to die. It was a stroke of luck that someone found me hours later and called an ambulance.”
Thankfully, Bram never told them about me. If he had, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I have to make sure I get the details of the next part right. All the dots must line up. The Dukes aren’t stupid. They’ll research and fact-check my story as soon as they can. This is the part where I have some creative freedom.
“When I told the police what happened, they told me that Matteo was already under investigation,” I say. It’s not a lie. Killing him when he was being watched around the clock was not a straightforward task. “They were trying to track him down because he was connected to a string of disappearances. They asked me to testify against him as a character witness, so they created a new identity for me and covered up how Daisy really died. That’s when I went into witness protection.”
