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The only price that seems high enough for what he did is death.
“But—”
“This isn’t up for debate,” she snaps, shutting me down. “I’m asking—no, I’m telling you—not to do this. You said you wanted to kill him for us. For what he did. I’m asking you not to. For me.”
Her request goes against everything I’ve been working towards. I’m conflicted between finally achieving my goal and doing what my brainwashed sister wants.
“He should be dead,” I say. “That bastard ruined our lives. He destroyed everything.”
“He also gave me the greatest gift I’ll ever have,” she says. “As long as Spencer’s alive, she’s safe.”
“Daisy.” I step forward, and she backs away, closer to Spencer. “Please.”
“You’re going to forget about your vendetta,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “If you care about me like you say you do, then you’ll do what I ask.”
“Of course I care about you,” I say. “All of this was for you! I… I… can’t we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says. “You need to walk away from him… and us.”
“But I don’t want to,” I say. “We’ve lived apart for five years. Now we’ve found each other. I want to stay with you.”
“We shouldn’t even be talking,” Daisy says, looking over her shoulder like she’s afraid an agent will jump out from behind a bookcase. “You shouldn’t know about me or Ivy. I’ll have to speak to Stephanie about it.”
“Yeah, because she’s always so helpful,” Seb mutters sarcastically. “Psychopaths are the best people to ask for advice.”
“Watch it, pretty boy,” she snarls. If she wasn’t directing her anger at me or the guys, I’d cheer her on. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t kill you.”
“You don’t have to tell her about us,” I say. “If she finds out, she’ll probably throw you in a dungeon, like she did to me. She doesn’t want me alive.”
“So, you’re not an agent anymore?” She raises an eyebrow, and then her nose wrinkles like a plate of heated dog shit is being wafted under her nose. “You’re one of them? A Duke?”
“No,” I blurt. “The Dukes were helping me. Whatever working relationship we have is over now.”
Seb’s face falls. What did he expect when their leader proved himself to be incapable of showing loyalty?
Daisy checks a message flashing over her watch screen. “There’s someone else here. Frederick James and Callen Campbell.” Her expression turns thunderous. “Did you call for help to fight your battles?”
“No,” I say, insulted by the suggestion. I don’t know how Freddie and Callen found out where we were. If my plan had worked out, they’d both be rotting in a prison cell like they deserve. The bastards must have got rid of Trout’s body in time. “I told you, I’m not a Duke.”
Daisy turns on Bram and Seb. “One of you did it then.”
Seb grins in bemusement. “You took my phone off me, remember? Or do you think we’re psychic?”
Both Daisy and I glower at him. Sarcastic fucker.
“They’ve made a mess,” she says. “Hale says they’ve killed the two guards out front.”
“Callen,” I growl under my breath.
The crazy psycho can’t resist an opportunity to throw his weight around.
CHAPTER 8
FREDDIE
“Was that necessary?” I step over the mess. Callen burst the guard’s skulls like watermelons. Thankfully, he was fast enough not to draw any unwanted attention, and the dense hedgerow provided a perfect cover for their bodies.
I’ve been acting on autopilot, so fixated on finding Ivy that I didn’t complete many of my usual area checks.
