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And for him to keep my dagger?
My heart thuds faster under the pebbles of the water. It only angers me because it’s not just adagger. I’ve had that blade since I was twenty-one; after my father died, I had it made specifically for this reason. It was a pledge to me that I’ll one day get the men and kill them with the toxins on my blade. A reminder of my goal, my purpose. And that I would never let my father down because if I not for that, what point would I have served?
Would it all be a waste? All the pain and late night tears that I had to hide… All the horror and blood. I can’t, and I won’t allow it.
I step out of the shower, wrapping my body under the towel; the bristles are not very soft, but it’s better than nothing.
I stroll back into the open area, ready to put on the spare shirt and underwear I kept in my car, until I see a flashing light coming from my pocket holster. I narrow in, my heart making its way to my stomach slowly.
What is that?
I creep over to the flashes; the holster hanging over the chair, tucked into the brown desk. I reach inside, hesitating. It could be a bomb. Or a camera.
No one touched me tonight—well, besides you know who. I blink several times before plucking out a circular black card. Disk?
And in bold, the letter G.
My heart officially squeezes like a crushed soda can. When and how? Those questions are useless. The real one is—what is this?
I lift it up, inspecting the smooth metal with the gold letter G that is engraved on top of a button shaped like a thumbprint.
My head shakes. What if he has my location now? My breath quickens; he can find me again. I clench the device in my hands, my frustration spiking to the pale-yellow ceiling.
He’s the owner of GenCre. Of course, he can find me and slip in shit undetected. Even when I said I’ll avoid them at all costs, I happen to physically fight the creator—and to make matters worse, he’s already my enemy. I can’t say I’m not impressed, though. The stories of GenCre are not pretty, and that means Ronan is really not the one to fuck with. And that also means I don’t give a fuck.
I didn’t get through this lifestyle cowering away from the boogeyman. I’m the one to blow him up and devour his black soul. Fear is a word—not a feeling.
Something I have always told myself to keep thriving and afloat.
I slow my breathing. If he wants to find me, I’ll be here with my gun raised and ready to shoot.
I throw the disk onto the floor, grab my boot, and slam the heel directly on the top, smashing it to smithereens.
Same way I will smash his head.
May the last shadow stand.
Chapter 11
Venom
Four days later
Location: Terrain Construction
Operation: Kill Henley…?before Ronan does
Ihad a terrible nightmare last night.
Ronan found me, grabbed me and dragged me by the leg and all the way to his lair of demise. I was fucking petrified, I was screaming and clawing the ground, begging for him to release me. All he did was glare over his shoulder with bright brown eyes and continue until he threw me into a large black dungeon.
I woke up in horror and sweaty with fear. For the first time, it consumed me whole. Which is also how I knew it was a dream I would never allow myself to give into a begging tantrum, and I sure as shit won’t succumb to Ronan, out of all people.
You know what I think? I think he must’ve been hit in the head a few too many times in this business. If he thinks I’m going to sit idly by and let him tell me what to do or work with his league of weasels, then he’s very much mistaken.
Everything that he does makes me uneasy, especially learning his entire reasoning behind this. I won’t let it misguide me and change my mind, regardless of what he’s doing.
It’s also why I’m ducked behind a construction trailer with my gun in my hand. It’s a quarter past five, the sun is near its end, layering moody and dull clouds that hide the brightness. It’s fitting for the results to come.