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The word choice sparks outrage in spite of me doing my best to hold it back. “They’re dating?”
No.
That’s impossible.
She belongs to me.
And only me.
It’s my last name that’s to become hers.
My cape she borrows.
My family jewels she loves to keep her hands on.
That has not changed.
That is not going to fucking change.
Not now.
Not ever.
“According to Monica – your half-sister maybe – ‘Calen and Bryn’s relationship is developing’. Between the dinners – mostly to Mo Mo’s – the outings – like the beach – and her sleeping at his apartment – instead of the penthouse – proving her inference isn’t difficult.”
“She’s not even staying at our place anymore?”
“Not according to Hill. Or Monica for that matter.”
“How the fuck does she know that?!” New waves of rage ripple throughout my voice. “How the fuck does she know anything?! Everything?!”
“You’re probably not looking for the answer that she’s a real-life comic book villain, are you?”
“No.”
“Fine.” His voice lowers to needlessly mumble, “Although, she has a lot in common with that creepy flower power zombie thing.”
“Mister Bloom.”
“Was not a fan of those comics.”
Neither was Bryn.
However, it’s not because of the villains or storylines or artists.
It’s just that she prefers the simpler, more familiar arcs.
Claims to be a “basic bat cannon bitch”, which is almost impressively articulate in a strange way.
In what I can only classify to be the Bryn way.
“Pham and Evie believe we have a leak,” J.T. unenthusiastically announces. “Again.”
Low rumbles rattle my raw throat, effortlessly amplifying the lingering aches.
“Park’s looked and been looking and there are no red flags. His team hasn’t found any bank accounts with suspicious activity. No questionable visitors, meetings, or phone calls for those with direct access to the two of you. He has no idea how Monica is getting her information.”
“He sweep the building for bugs?”
