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“What are you doing?” she snaps. She also knows the area well and points in the opposite direction. “We need to go to Spencer’s. That way.”
I sigh as if to say, Is this really how you want to end this?
She’s spent years yearning for revenge, yet she hasn’t fully planned her next move. Spencer Bexley—the millionaire heir to a small fortune—isn’t like the other men on her hit list, who were comparatively easy targets. People don’t just show up at Spencer’s door without an invitation and expect to be let inside. He’s well-protected and paranoid about his safety after watching his friends die under mysterious circumstances. He has bodyguards watching him around the clock and top-of-the-range security systems installed. Killing him will require skill and precision, not some gung ho act of reprisal to make her feel better.
She arches her eyebrow, and her brown eyes twinkle. “You doubt me?”
Her emotionless tone reminds me of our first reunion at the Killers Club HQ. She tied me to a steel bench and tortured me for answers, branding my chest forever. Recalling the ordeal makes me grimace, remembering the pain and the smell of my searing skin. Being turned into a human BBQ steak is a sensation that’s hard to forget.
I shake my head. Never.
Of course I don’t doubt her abilities. Ivy learned from the most brutal in the business. Alaric groomed her to be one of the best merciless killers around. He trained her, equipping her with every skill she’d need to pull off this feat. Yet, despite her advantages, her regret is what I’m worried about. Is this really how she pictured avenging her sister?
“I’ve been dreaming about this moment for five years,” she tells me, sensing my doubts and seeking to end them. “I can’t wait any longer, Bram. You’re either with me or against me. What’s it going to be?”
She’s made her decision, and I’ve made mine. I turn to put us back on course and eventually park at the end of Spencer’s street, far enough away from his mansion to avoid attention. Hopefully, this will give us a little breathing room.
“You can stay in the car if you want,” she says, already raring to go, as I quieten the engine. “This is my fight. Not yours.”
I let out a low, threatening growl. It’s the best noise I can make to let her know my intentions. She’s not doing this alone. This is our fight. I won’t let her out of my sight, and I’ll be with her every step of the way. No matter what happens or how bloody it gets.
She forgets that I was there five years ago. I saw first-hand what Spencer did to her and Daisy. The horrific image of how he left them is still burned in my brain. It was my arms that carried her broken body away from the crash site, praying that she would live long enough to reach—what I believed would be—a safe haven. After what he subjected them to, I wanted Spencer Bexley dead almost as much as she did.
“I take that as a no?” Ivy says, then winks playfully. “Hopefully you can keep up.”
I lock the car as she reaches for the handle. Not yet.
Her nostrils flare in fury when I beckon for her to hand me my laptop from the glove compartment. We’re heading into this situation unprepared, but we’re not completely defenceless. At the very least, I can make sure we won’t get caught straight away. Now would be a convenient time for a small power outage to interfere with telephone lines, mobile signals, and Spencer’s security systems, right? I leave the power running inside the house, so no one will suspect a thing.
Ivy cranes to see the laptop screen and watches what I’m doing. She blows a strand of hair out of her face with a reluctant huff and mutters, “I guess we can wait a few more minutes.”
I get to work quickly. My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I grit my teeth in determination to hack into the relevant networks. They’re sophisticated and have encryption in place, but they’re not strong enough to keep me out. It helps that Spencer hired the Dukes for protection previously, so I already have a good grasp of the backdoors and how to swindle my way inside. I shut the laptop with a victorious slam when I’m finished.
“Done already?” she asks.
I smirk smugly. Did you expect anything less?
“You don’t have to come with me,” she says. “You’ve already done enough.”
Although I choose to spend most of my time behind a screen these days, I can still use my fists. I’m not holding back now, especially when a piece of shit like Bexley is involved. An opportunity like this is too good to pass up.
I undo my seatbelt to make a point. I’m coming with you.
She smiles, and our eyes meet. I reach for her face, cupping her jaw in my hands and admire her perfect features. She doesn’t realise how beautiful she is.
Is this really what you want?
“I need to do this, Bram,” she answers earnestly. “None of this will be over until he’s dead. I need to end this. Once and for all.”
I want to question what will happen after she gets what she wants, but I don’t know if she’s ever thought that far ahead. When she completes her purpose, she’ll need someone to help her, so I keep my concerns to myself and nod in understanding.
As soon as I unlock the car, she jumps out in a flash. Her arms are still streaked with Trout’s blood, and she’ll leave bloody footprints behind with every step. Forensically, this is a sloppy mess, but Ivy doesn’t care. Why should she? You’re untouchable when everyone thinks you’re dead.
I hold one finger up, gesturing for her to hold on. She rolls her eyes and taps her foot, eager to succumb to her murderous urges. She waits while I head to the back of the car and retrieve a backpack from the boot. Another of Torean’s kill kits. They’ve come in handy.
Her grin lights up her face like it’s Christmas morning and I’m Santa. “Someone came prepared.”
We fall into step and approach the back entrance to Spencer’s mansion from the opposite side of the street. Ivy leads the way; her red hair flowing behind her like a streak of fire. Spencer’s security team is positioned strategically around the perimeter. With my technological interventions, we should be able to take them out—or better yet, slip past them—without drawing any unwanted attention.
