Page 4

Amelia lifted her brows. “Oh please, that’s what boob tape is for. You should get that one—you have to get that one.”

I sighed, but just as I was about to tell Amelia that I wasn't purchasing it, my phone chimed behind me.

My heart jolted as I stepped back into the dressing room and closed the curtains. I reached for the phone, my pulse racing as I knew exactly who it was from. Though a grin spread wide across my face when I read the three-word demand.

Unknown: Get that one.

I forced myself not to peek through the curtain and scan the room for cameras. Instead, I glanced in the mirror one last time, seeing the swell of my breasts and the smooth, tanned skin of my torso. I ran my hands over the curves of my hips, twisting to the side, fixed on how the silk felt beneath my palms.

Maybe they were right—I should get this one.

It looked great, and I could pair it with my own tailored trench coat on the ride there. Though the coat-check attendants would take it the moment I stepped foot in the building, leaving me no choice but to walk around in this tiny piece of fabric.

Against my better judgement, I sighed in defeat, placed all the dresses back on their hangers, and purchased the silk black dress.

2

MANIC

The pained groan from my captive pierced the air as I sat on a creaky wooden stool and stared at my phone. The warehouse lights reflected off the screen, reminding me of the many bulbs that needed to be replaced.

I ignored my captive’s panted breaths to watch Sutton through the boutique’s surveillance cameras. Then she swiped her card, buying that inky black dress I’d liked, and walked out with the bag, Amelia Belmonte in tow beside her.

Smug satisfaction ran through me.

Annoyance accompanied that feeling, settling low in my stomach and twisting into knots. I liked that she’d listened, but I hated that I liked that fucking dress. I ground my teeth.

I should have never started following her.

No, scratch that.

I should have never opened that door of conversation with her in the first place. But like the alluring creature she was, Sutton had her hooks in me the moment she took a hit off my cigarette, stealing my attention like a storm on a sunny day.

It was her fault, really—for being so damn appealing. Even with five years between then and now, I still couldn’t help but shoot her a quick message. It was an addiction at this point.

It was a shame she was incredibly naïve.

From what I’d learned, she had no idea of what her father did. Or used to do. Now the Hales lived in peace in an estate outside the city, refusing to involve themselves in the crimes they’d once committed alongside my father.

I never understood why Father had allowed their departure from the mafia almost five years ago, but I knew he wanted Luka Hale back. He was just biding his time until the opportunity came up again.

My father, as cruel as he was, was a patient man.

Another ragged breath from the man in front of me had my eyes lifting and my impatience resurfacing. The air hung tainted with blood and the breath of decaying flesh.

Persistent bastard. I was almost impressed.

A single bulb swayed above him, sending streaks of light over his dirty, blood-crusted clothes. With five days of limited food and water, he was frail, his remaining eye now hollowed. His sweaty hair clung to his temples.

I’d already sliced his face from forehead to chin, broken a few fingers, and taken an eye with a spoon. That was for looking at her. I contemplated taking the other.

I took a drag from my cigarette and blew the smoke into his face with a grim smile. His head hung low, and blood slipped down his chin. I stood with a tight jaw and shut off my phone, sliding it into my pocket. In my other hand, I clicked my knife open and twirled it, the black blade a blur of movement between us.

“Are you going to tell me who hired you?” I asked casually, and he answered with a throaty cough.

I hummed, nodding as a violent wave of frustration tightened my chest. After days of interrogation, my patience had worn incredibly thin. Jokes on him, I enjoyed torturing people and stretching it out for days and days. Especially ones who I knew deserved it.

“Wrong answer,” I said, and sank my blade into his thigh.