Page 172 of The Monster and the Masochist

I felt like I was fucking underwater.

Suicide? Was it actually suicide or… was… was the reverend trying to silence that little girl?

It didn’t matter. Either way, it was unforgivable. Such a waste of a life.

And I knew… I knew how the system worked.

The reverend would never see true justice for his crimes. Even if we dropped him as a client, he would just use whatever power and connections he had to find new representation, and he would get off with a slap on the wrist.

It was possible he might not even see the inside of a jail cell.

I glanced up at Nolan, and I could tell from the look on his face that his mind had gone down a similar path.

“I’m taking this to the partners,” I announced.

He pursed his lips, his blue eyes hard and darker than I’d ever seen them.

“We’re taking this to the partners,” he said firmly. He stood up and passed my phone back. He was shaking, and it took me a moment to realize he was shaking with rage.

He was just as angry as I was, and I had another moment of appreciation for this man that I’d once thought of as an enemy.

I was glad to have him stand with me on this, and I let him see how much I appreciated it as I reached out to take my phone back from him gently.

“Yes. We’re taking this to the partners,” I agreed, and together, we set off to hunt down Edmund and Vivian.

Itexted Theo to let her know I would be late getting home while Nolan worked on organizing an emergency meeting with the partners.

Edmund’s EA had us wait in his office because he’d been in court all day, and it would take him a bit to travel back to meet with us.

While we waited, I’d spent some time doing my best to get more information out of Vox. It was a pain in the ass texting him, since he refused to even use words to text.

He mostly communicated with emojis and message reactions, and if it was absolutely necessary, you might get a one or two-word answer out of him. But it was like pulling fucking teeth, and trying to decipher his vague ass replies was doing nothing to improve my mood.

I’d asked him if there was more evidence than what he’d already sent me, and the asshole had just said: Probably.

When I asked him if he was still working on digging up more shit, he’d just liked my message.

I’d sent him a link to the news segment Nolan had shown me on Meredith Beck’s alleged suicide, and he’d acknowledged that message with another thumbs-up reaction.

Fuming at his complete lack of communication, I aggressively typed out a final attempt at getting something of substance out of him.

Hoping to shock him into giving me a real answer to one of my questions, I snapped and just straight up told him something I’d barely admitted to myself.

He’d told me this line was secure, so fuck it.

I was going there.

Cass:

I need more information here, Vox. I’m planning on fucking killing this guy. I need to know everything about him. I need to know who he’s connected to and whether anyone will come looking for him if he disappears… I need to know his schedule. When he’s alone and when he’s not. I need to know if he had anything to do with Meredith’s death. I need to know what he was doing during that dark zone in his digital history. Can you please get the fuck over yourself and give me a real response? This is life or fucking death!

Literally shaking with fury, I stared at our conversation as I waited to see how he would respond. After a few long, tense seconds, the message I’d just sent suddenly disappeared. It took me a second to realize that he’d somehow deleted it, and to my surprise, he responded with actual words for once.

Vox:

Jfc, calm down, you fucking idiot. I’m working on it.

‘Excuse me!?’ I screeched in my head. White-hot rage exploded through me, and I almost launched my phone across Edmund’s office in fury.