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“Yes. Kill the assholes. Shut down the operation my father started,” he says. “The problem is, since Thanos is dead, the other clients would’ve heard about it through the grapevine. We need to plan this so they don’t suspect I’m the one killing each of them off.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask, setting the fake passport on the counter. I pick up the mug and round the counter to get a refill, which puts me right beside the man affecting me more than anyone ever has.
He watches me pour the coffee but doesn’t respond until I meet his blue eyes. The corner of his mouth tilts into a sinfully dark smirk.
“The catch is you get to work alongside me, little raven,” he whispers. “If you can handle being around me and not think about how I took your purity.”
“You’re still the asshole I remember from four years ago,” I bite back, my voice not wavering with fear this time, but burning hot with anger.
“I’m even worse now, little bird,” he tells me confidently. “I’m far from asshole, more like . . .” He purses his lips as if he’s thinking about what to tell me. “Satan himself.”
“Does that mean you turned into your asshole monster of a father?” I retort, not sure where my confidence is coming from, and I realize that remark could get me killed. He may need me, but once he’s done, he could easily murder me. Drake snaps his hard glare on me, his hand gripping my neck and squeezing, causing me to cough. In shock, the mug slips from my hands, falling to the floor with a loud shattering crash.
He leans in close, so close I can taste him. “If you ever say that again, I won’t think twice about ripping you apart, little raven,” he bites out, anger vibrating through him into me. “I’m nothing like that monster.” Tears prick my eyes as my blood turns cold. My lungs protesting, needing air.
“Drake.” River’s voice is distant as he calls to his volatile best friend. “Dude, let her up. She’s just trying to piss you off.”
I reach for Drake’s wrist, my nails digging in deep, feeling his flesh tear as I scratch into him. That only makes him smile. He brushes his lips over my ear and whispers, “Remember, little raven, I love it rough. I love when you draw blood from me while I make you wet with my dick. Do you remember that night, little one? Because I do. I remember every wet, slick, tight part of you.” He releases me, stalking from the kitchen, leaving me gulping in air.
“Ignore him. He’s just going through shit,” River says, as if his best friend wasn’t just choking the life from me.
“He’s a monster,” I grit out, my throat burning.
“That he is, but he’s as broken as you and me, babe,” River offers, rising and leaving me in the kitchen to seek out Drake. I don’t know what to do. Without them, I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive. But with them, I may be broken even more. I just need to decide which is the lesser of two evils.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DRAKE
“Did you enjoy that?” River questions when he finds me outside smoking. My body is still vibrating with a rage I never thought I’d feel again. When Malcolm died, it finally eased up, the anger that’s so palpable it runs through my veins. It ate away at me for years.
Alongside the rage was the fear that I’d turn into him. It was a constant reminder that it could so easily happen. I worked hard to fix myself, to focus on the end goal, to be free of the organization he started. But with each step forward, there were two back.
“I did,” I finally respond to my best friend. I can feel his gaze burning a fucking hole through me, and I know why. He’s angry with me for hurting Caia. I’m angry at myself for what I did, but there was fire dancing in her eyes as she struggled to suck in breaths. I wanted to steal them, to swallow them and bask in her warmth.
“You’re an asshole.” He tells me something I’ve known all my life. He pulls out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one while staring at me.
“Tell me something I don’t know, River.”
He sighs, blowing out a lungful of smoke, the white cloud billowing around him. Dante is just off the porch talking to someone on his phone, and I know he’ll soon have the info we need. My brother paces back and forth, something he does when he’s nervous or when he’s ready to blow a gasket. I wonder which one it is this time.
“She has feelings for you,” River mutters around the smoke hanging from his lips. I didn’t want to admit it, to acknowledge it, but he’s right. I saw it in her eyes. It’s clear as day when she looks at me. Needless to say, I’ve still got some fucked-up feelings for her too. Only, I can’t act on it. She needs to be free of this life and me as soon as I’ve gotten all the names from her. Seeing her alive is strange, especially after I thought she’d died along with my soul.
