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Ahren squeezed my hand under the table, the two of us exchanging knowing glances. We'd both been injured, stared our own mortality in the face like Larissa was now.
"What I have figured out," she continued, as if she hadn't drifted off, "is how the two of you can do it. You swallow the anger and frustration, channeling it into becoming agents of karma itself. She fucking branded me. I don't hate her, but I sure as fuck want revenge." Her eyes swung to mine, the cold fire there, a look I could recognize from the mirror.
"Sometimes, that's what you have to do." Ahren replied.
She nodded, her eyes drifting quietly between the pictures.
"Seems like gibberish." I said, spinning the other picture around so Larissa could see them. Hoping to distract her.
clue number 2
Man, the things you don't know are the Very things that will hurt you.
i know where your weaknesses lie.
last time, i was only Playing. this time, someone's gonna die.
"What's MVP?" I murmured, almost to myself, spinning the phone back to where I could read it better.
"Where do you see that?" he asked?
"Here," I said, tapping the screen with my fingernail. "They are the only letters capitalized. See?"
"I can't help but notice the way she wrote the letter i." she tapped against the screen, using her fingers to blow up the image so we could get a closer look. "See. Last and this should both be capitals. Not to mention, the V and the P are both wrong." She pushed the phone away, dropping back against the chair. "I think you're right. The capital letters must be significant."
"So—again, what's MVP?" I asked, only barely suppressing a growl of frustration.
"It's a sports abbreviation. It stands for Most Valuable Player. Basically, the one who made the win possible." Ahren supplied.
Larissa scoffed. "Well, clearly, it's not me. I'm a loser." She said, making air quotes with her fingers. “Bitch can’t spell, but I’m the loser.”
"That's better than being dead," he growled. "And I assure you, this bitch will be the second she's within range."
She offered him a soft smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. My fingers twitched, aching to reach for her. I wished I could help her see the fierce beauty I saw when I looked at her. I knew from experience she was trying to find a sliver of control to hold on to so she could feel like herself again. Something to guide her back to her own fire.
Only now did it occur to me that Ahren had probably been doing the same thing with me, training, sparring and nudging me toward things that made me feel powerful.
"I guess that's you, champ." I bumped his shoulder with mine. "I mean, look around at this house and all your gadgets. Not to mention your kill record that tops anyone in the country at this point."
"I don't think it's that simple," he said, his eyes never leaving the scrawled message. "Neither of you heard the taunt. Her tone—she wants to play with me, humiliate me, rub shit in my face. Not saying she won't kill me, but I'm certain she wants me to suffer first."
"That leaves Tierney." Larissa murmured. Yet even with her quiet voice, they both looked at me.
Ahren exhaled sharply, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Shit!"
"I'm fine." I said, waving off their concerned looks. "Really, I—"
"She's almost had you killed once already," he retorted, pure fire dancing behind those honeyed eyes of his.
"That wa—"
"And," he interrupted, raising his voice so his voice covered mine. "She's orchestrated this whole thing so that we're being hunted."
“How'd she know?” Connor piped up, her gaze swinging between Ahren and me.
"Know what?" I asked.
"That Ahren wouldn't just kill you and walk away. I mean, it was dumb luck you didn't die the first time—but the second—"