Page 175 of Dance With A Devil

Then footsteps echo from the stairs.

Dash is back. Behind him walks a tall brunette, chin tilted, lips curled in disdain.

Lexi Antonelli. “Touch me again and I’ll have your heads on pikes,” she spits.

Onyx doesn’t flinch. “You think anyone in this house is on your side?”

He shoves her down the last few steps.

She lands with a gasp but recovers fast, her smile bitter. “You’ll never find him.”

“You’re under the impression we don’t already know,” I sneer.

That’s when Karter appears. Dragging a man behind him by the collar like he’s garbage.

Hudson.

Bloody. Bruised. Panicked.

“He tried to vanish behind a secret wall in his bedroom,” Karter says, tossing him at our feet. “Too bad his custom panic room wasn’t on the blueprint.”

“That’s because I added it later,” Hudson spits. “For moments like this.”

“Funny,” Karter leans in close, voice venom-slick. “You’ll never guess who gave up your little hideaway.”

Hudson glares.

“Your kids,” Karter smirks. “Two cookies and a cup of milk was all it took. They said, and I quote,‘Daddy’s mean. Mommy’s mean. They hide when they do bad things.’”

Hudson’s face drains. Lexi snarls. I crouch beside him, grip his jaw, force him to look at me.

“You’ve got one chance to walk out of here breathing. One.”

Dash chambers a round behind me.

“And we’re not patient men.”

“What are you talking about?” Hanson’s voice trembles, but he’s trying hard to keep it steady.

Karter smirks, circling him like a vulture. “Why are you shaking? Nervous we’ll crack open all your dirty little secrets?”

“I don’t have secrets,” Hanson mutters.

Liar.

I watch a bead of sweat crawl down his temple like it’s trying to escape the lie before he finishes speaking.

Karter’s tone turns venomous. “In the short time I spent with those kids upstairs, they handed over your filth on a silver fucking platter. We were gonna offer you a choice, side with us or rot with Bash. But after what they told us? There’s no decision left to make.”

“Tell us,” I say flatly.

Karter’s lip curls in disgust. “He kills kids. Lexi handpicks them. She’s his blood-slick match made in hell.”

“No, no, that’s not true.” Hanson stammers, his denial weak and paper-thin.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I murmur. “But if I had to take a wild guess, I’d say the kids don’t have a reason to lie. You, on the other hand…”

“I vote we side with the kids,” Wells says from the shadows. “Always hated this fuck. Even if they’re lying, I still say we kill him and send what’s left to Bash in a shoebox.”