Page 46 of Pretty Nightmare

Maybe.

“You have no idea what’s been happening in this world while Adam’s had you here.”

“And you do?”

“I know as much as Adam does. I know way more than you do. And your friend, Donovan?” He shakes his head. “Do you have any idea what kind of monster that man is?”

“Donovan?” I have to laugh.

“You ever hear of cognitive dissonance, McKay?”

“What?”

“It’s when the truth is right in front of your fucking face and your mind is so blown, you can’t see it. But the truth always comes out. No matter how hard you fight it, it always comes out. And I’m gonna give you a little friendly warning here, OK? Because you were always good to me.” He straightens up. Lifts up his chin, even. And his one good eye bores into mine. “There’s a reckoning coming, McKay. I hope you’re ready for it.”

“Listen,” I say, forcing a laugh. “I don’t have time for this shit. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a little head start before I set you loose in the big wide world, OK? But I don’t actually hate you, Nathan. And all I really want to do is go back inside, figure what the fuck just happened—”

“She happened, McKay. He triggered her.”

The next obvious question is—who? But I can’t even go there. I’m not playing this boy’s game. “Nathan, if you really are Company—”

“If?”

“Shut the fuck up now! You hear me?” I lean forward and scream it at him and he takes a step back. So I continue. “If you really are Company, then you know there’s only one path for you in life. And it just so happens that I got a little side hustle going.”

He nearly guffaws even though that laugh has to hurt like hell. “You?”

“What is this surprise I hear in your voice? Never mind who you are, do have any idea who I am, Nathan?”

“Yeah.” He spits blood again. “Mr. Rule-Follower. Mr. Up-and-Up. Mr. I-Have-Ethics. You’re not gonna offer me anything good. But whatever. Let’s hear your deal. Not like I have much choice now. Fuckers. My grandfather warned me over and over again that my love for Indie would be my downfall.”

I can’t even take this bullshit, so I just ignore that last part. “You know that saying? The one that goes, ‘We’re all in this together?’”

He stares at me.

“Well, we’re not. In this together, I mean. It’s one hundred percent every man for himself. And maybe I don’t know where you come from, Nathan, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s probably closer to where I come from than you may think. So what if that psycho Fenici bitch had an affair with some high-ranking Tate man? That makes you special? That don’t make you special. That makes you a bastard. The way I see it, that lands you a few rungs down the ladder from me.”

“Says the boy who was sold to the Bouchers at age nine. Did you even question it?”

“Do you want to hear the fuckin’ offer or don’t you?” And that growl is back.

It disturbs me. Possibly more than it disturbs Nathan. Because it doesn’t come out often and this is twice now. Twice in the span of minutes.

He takes a breath, probably considers saying something smart-assy back to me, then thinks better of it. Because he hasn’t ever seen this side of me. He hasn’t seen any side of me, actually. Few people have. I keep the real me hidden well away from anyone’s prying eyes.

But Nathan senses it. And when he speaks next, he whispers. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“You’re still gonna sell me that land. We’re done with you. It’s over.”

“Like I fucking care. Selling it is the whole reason I’m even in town.”

“Good. That’s the easy part then. And then you will disappear. For good this time. Indie isn’t gonna come looking for you again. And you’re not gonna go looking for her.”

“You better make a damn good offer on that cottage, Core McKay. Because that’s the only way I’ll sell out.”

“Oh, the offer will be generous, don’t you worry. I’ll set you up just fine. But let’s be clear here, OK? Let’s be honest. A sellout is a sellout. Doesn’t matter how high the offer is.”

“What. Is. The job?”