Page 108 of Run, Little Rabbit

“Sure,” I squeak. “I’ve got a crime boss to dethrone.”

I resolutely turn on my heel and walk my ass up the hill to the ruins, the sound of dark chuckles serenading me on my way. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder and see the guys fading into the shadows, disappearing into the night sky. Even though I’m standing here on my own, I don’t feel alone. I know the guys are there, ready to help me if I need it.

So, I square my shoulders and let the persona of the Six Minute Killer embrace me.

Watch out, Daddy. The clock’s ticking.

Chapter Forty-One

Echo

As soon as I round the corner of one of the last remaining walls of the abbey, I spot my dad with a handful of his men. The twins stand off to one side, and I see Jace and Kai mirrored on the other. His posture is rigid, like a steel rod holds him in place. As if he were immovable.

His face is hard, cold. Giving nothing away, and the twins look bored. The only person showing any real concern or any emotion at all is Kai. But that was to be expected. He already knows thatit’s me coming out of the shadows and not some scary-looking dude with a penchant for murder.

Come on, Echo. It’s showtime.

I step out of the shadows and into the light, my steps steady and sure.

“Hello, Daddy.” My voice is calm, my fingers relaxed as they hover by the gun strapped to my thigh.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He simply watches me walk towards him, those dangerous, calculating eyes fixed on me.

Looking at him makes my blood boil. I never really knew how much I hated him until now. Previously, I'd always buried it beneath the facade of the dutiful daughter, believing that was the proper thing to do. But now I know better.

I see the monster now. The man who murdered his wife. The father who only sees his children as pawns and useful tools for his grand plan.

I'm curious if the twins would have turned out differently if they hadn't had to suffer at the hands of Rory Quinn. Would I have been different?

Probably, but I guess we will never know.

“Not going to shoot me?” I ask as I step a little closer, eradicating the distance between us until I can see the whites of his eyes.

There’s something dangerous swirling in them. I’ve outfoxed him, and he doesn’t know what to make of that yet. He’s planning something, calculating risks and working out strategies for how to deal with the knowledge I’ve just handed to him.

Rory Quinn’s little princess is a serial killer.

“I don’t kill family.” His voice is steady, but I can sense the storm swirling beneath the surface. The air feels charged with it.

I bark a laugh. “Really? What about Mum? You had no trouble killing her.”

His left eye twitches. “I didn’t kill her.”

“No, you had Larke do that.”

I sense the ripples of shock and curiosity from the men behind him, but I don’t take my eyes off my dad. I don’t want to give him an opportunity to strike. But I do want to provoke him. I want to make him snap and wipe that calm fucking mask off his face. I know he’s seething inside. Pissed that he didn’t figure out who I really was. Angry that I’m threatening to make him lookweak.

Well, I’m going to make him show the fucking world who he really is.

Even now, he won’t admit what he did. I sent him the evidence, the goddamned proof, and he still says nothing.

I cock my head to one side and look over him from head to toe, my gaze assessing. “Too afraid to do your own dirty work?”

“And you’d know all about that. Wouldn’t you?”

He’s not wrong. “At least I have the balls to, Dad. I don’t need anyone else to do my work for me.”

Dad’s laugh is cold. “You think killing a few people is going to make you worthy of a seat at my table?”