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Vana: I wish we’d never eaten at your damn place.

Me: Why?

Vana: Aidan won’t stop asking about Camden.

Me: Conor’s asked me about him too. I just said he’s a recovering addict.

Me: He was okay that night.

Vana: I caught him betting in the kitchen.

Me: Ah, shit.

Vana: And he smelled of weed when he came up.

Me: Double shit.

Vana: Camden would say it’s okay to open up with Aidan about everything, but he’s got so many issues that it's knowing where to start. Aidan would probably suggest rehab and that won't work.

Me: If it was possible to fix people, I’d like to fix him.

Vana: We could always neuter him.

Me: LOL. Not sure how he’d feel about that.

Vana: Maybe he’d get himself under some semblance of control.

Me: You just huffed then, didn’t you?

Vana: Maybe. Did you know the last time he went to rehab, one of his stalkers broke into the facility?

Me: Jesus. Your family is so fucking unlucky.

Vana: YOU are our family too. Stop excluding yourself.

Vana: I'm not the only one who's going to regret our dinner.

Me: Why?

Vana: He told Mom about it.

Me: So?

Vana: She wants to see you.

Me: Then she can go fuck herself lol.

Vana: She might like that though.

Me: Hahahahahaha.

Vana: :P

Vana: Don’t expect to get out of this lol.

Me: I’d like to see your dad.

Vana: They come together as a pair.

Me: I GTG.

Vana: No, what a surprise lol.

Me: Not because of the conversation. I’m waiting for someone. They showed up. TTYL.

Vana: Okay. TTYL. BTW the last of the articles goes live today. All those politicians’ dirty secrets are out in the open.

Me: Good. Lay low on the writing front for a while. I’m shifting focus to the Interpol department handling the Sparrows and this charity Rachel has started. You okay with covering society events?

Vana: Duh.

Though I knew she’d continued the conversation, my focus was elsewhere.

When Priestley O’Reilly pushed the front door to her building open, I was there, shoving alongside her. My phone slipping into my coat pocket as I finished talking to Savannah and concentrated on my real reason for being out in the goddamn cold on a side street just off Ninth Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen.

Having staked out her routine for the last couple days, I knew she took her baby to the kid’s grandmother and went to hot yoga. Then, she spent the day doing dick knew what in her apartment before picking up the baby around nine, sometimes later.

When I pressed my hands into her back and pushed her over, she yelped as she went flying.

The second she was on the floor, I dropped down, dug my knee into the center of her back, and asked, “Comfortable?”

“Help me up, dammit! Who the fuck?—”

She shrieked in pain as I grabbed her hair and slammed her face into the floor.

“I don’t think I will,” I informed her, ignoring her squeals. “Not until I’m ready.” Digging the boniest part of my knee into her spine, I whispered, “I’m going to help you up and then we’re going somewhere together.”

She ceased her struggles but started sobbing. “Who are you?” she whimpered, terror and pain leaching into every word. “Are you with the Five Points?”

“Why? Been expecting a visit from them?” I added more pressure. “Wonder why.”

Letting go for a fraction of a second, wanting her to experience hope, I robbed it from her by jerking her arm behind her back, not stopping until it snapped at the shoulder.

As she screamed, I peered around the hall and nodded at the doorman who’d rushed out from behind his desk.

Though he’d known to expect me, he gulped before staggering back a couple steps, his eyes drifting behind me.

Not needing to know who’d be there waiting, I jerked Priestley up by her dislocated arm so she’d pass out from the pain.

Thankfully, the cries of agony swiftly drew to a halt.

As soon as they did, the outer door opened and Brennan’s man, Forrest, strode in.

“Yo, Harry, how ya doing?”

“I-I’m okay, Forrest,” Harry stuttered. “Everything all right?”

“Sure, sure. Just business.”

Harry flicked a look between me and Priestley. “She’s a mom.”

“She’s a traitor. Should have thought of her kid before she betrayed the Points,” I informed him coolly.

“That right, Forrest?”

“That’s right, Harry. You know what to do when the cops come calling?”

“Tell them nothing then phone you,” he rasped anxiously.

“You got that right.” He raised two fingers to his temple in a salute. “Speak later, buddy.” When Harry hovered, Forrest chided, “Go on, Harry. You go back to your desk.”

Hunching his shoulders, Harry disappeared, and Forrest helped me prop up Priestley.

Together, we walked to the waiting SUV as if she hadn’t been beaten into unconsciousness but was sick and in need of urgent care.

Ha. She’d get that. At the end of my fist.

“Where’s Brennan?” I asked as I shoved her into the back seat and climbed in behind her.

“Waiting at the Hole,” Bagpipes answered from behind the steering wheel.

I jerked my chin up in understanding, aware that was Brennan’s center of operations on the border between Brooklyn and Queens.

When Forrest climbed into the passenger seat, Bagpipes took off, and we made our way to the peculiar dead zone that had always fascinated me.

“Is it true there’s an unofficial graveyard in the Hole?” I asked once we crossed the East River and made it into Flushing, cutting into their argument about whether the Bruins could beat the Maple Leafs.

“It’s not exactly a graveyard,” Forrest answered. “Ain’t no headstones.”

I snorted. “I’d never have guessed.”

He beamed a grin at me. “Aidan Sr. and his da used to dump bodies there. That’s half the reason it’s a dead zone, I think. Brennan never said but I’m pretty sure that the O’Donnellys own this area, or part of it, and they kept it off-grid. It’s the only reason why the city wouldn’t have developed this neighborhood.”

That made sense, especially when I caught sight of the dump that Brennan called ‘the office.’

When we drove over a series of massive potholes that were flooded with groundwater, they jostled the SUV, rocking Priestley from side to side.

As her dislocated arm collided with the floor of the vehicle, she groaned and began to stir.

Putting extra pressure on her shoulder, I spat, “The only escape you’re going to get is when you’re unconscious so if I were you, I’d stay fucking quiet.”

Soft whimpers whispered from her but she kept it low on the volume levels until we made it to Brennan’s HQ.

“Oh, my God, is this the Hole?” she moaned as I hauled her out of the SUV a few minutes later.

I grabbed her bad arm and tugged, which had her dropping to her knees on the mud-strewn parking lot with a scream of pain.

Dirt splattered everywhere, grimy water from the puddles too. Her once-pristine outfit was marred by myriad stains, and her cheeks were coated in filth—the only clean parts were the tracks where her tears coursed.

“You can either walk to the door or you can be dragged by your arm,” I told her blandly as I took in her pathetic figure. “The choice is yours.”

“Why are you doing this? Wasn’t killing my husband enough ?” she screamed.

I huffed out a laugh. “It’s funny how you two were perfect for each other. He was a fucking traitor and you’re a treacherous cunt.

"Now make a decision.”

She sniffled. "I'll walk."

Forrest and Bagpipes shot each other looks but said nothing as I towed her into the weird building that was Brennan’s base, which appeared to be some kind of brothel from the forties. Bright red and brocade. Bizarre and oddly fancy for a place to torture people.

Forrest guided me to a back room where there were cattle hooks on the ceiling. The weird front had calmed her down, lulled her into a false sense of security as we wandered through rooms decorated in that strangely ornate way, but when she saw the easy-to-clean slaughterhouse, that was when she started struggling.

One tug on her arm was enough to keep her under control, though.

Luckily for her, she didn’t have a high pain threshold because there were plenty of worse things I could have done to her. Would have done, too, if she wasn’t such an easy mark.

Shoving her onto a lone seat in the center of the barren space, I watched her clutch at her arm as she peered at me through panda eyes.

“I have a son,” she cried, shoulders quaking with her sobs. “He needs his mommy.”

“It’s okay,” I told her. “He’s with his grandmother. She can raise him. And when she dies, if he needs a home, I’ll take him in. I’m surprisingly good with messed-up kids.

“Though I’m thinking he’s too young for you to have fucked him up with poison about how crappy the O’Donnellys are. Lucky for you.”

Her mouth wobbled but she surged off her seat in a pathetic attempt at an attack. “You can’t have my baby!”

As she came at me, I stuck out my foot, sent her flying, then I dropped to my knees next to her on the ground, stuck my fingers in her nose, and snapped it.

When she howled, I shoved my fist under her chin, snapped her mouth shut, and snarled, “I told you to stop with the screaming. Your baby barely sees you, Priestley. I don’t think he’ll miss you too much when you’re gone.”

Back to whimpering, she tried to roll onto her side and started sobbing. The moment I let go, she cried, “Why? Why? Why?”

“You talked.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t!”

Forrest cleared his throat. “You sure about this?”

“You soft or something?” I snapped.

“Forrest ain’t soft.”

I peered at the doorway and found the head honcho himself staring at me.

Arching a brow at Brennan, I demanded, “You got a problem?”

“No. Just checking in on the situation.”

“Brennan!” Priestley cried, sitting up and turning to him with beseeching eyes.

I kicked her in the face and watched as, howling in pain, she returned to her fetal position of earlier.

He frowned, his discomfort clear. “You got any answers yet?”

“This is why you don’t send a man to deal with a woman. Bitches are your weakness. You need to watch that.” I wagged my finger at him then shoved Priestley onto her back when she bobbed up again. “You want a quick death, Priestley?”

“I don’t want to die,” she pleaded.

“It’s going to happen today.” As she sobbed, I continued over her noise, “You signed your own death warrant when you sold Conor out.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t!”

“You fucking did. The person who told me wouldn’t have lied to me.” Not unless Anton wanted another fork through his palm. “He told me you shared intel with Sheridan Reinier.”

“Danny?” Priestley whispered.

“Sheridan Reinier,” I corrected. “Not Danny.”

With her good hand, she grabbed my arm and sat straighter. “You know him? Where is he? Is he okay?”

Totally confused, I shot Brennan a look. He was just as bewildered as I was because Priestley had stopped sounding terrified for herself and was starting to sound worried for the prick whose eternal resting place was a metal coffin.

Well, until he was moved so some other schmuck could spend his last days in the shipping container.

“Who is he to you?”

She ducked her head between hunched shoulders. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” I repeated.

“He’s gone missing.” She sniffled before she glowered at Brennan. “Did the O’Donnellys have him killed as well?”

“Explain this to me," I demanded, ignoring her question. "You told him shit about the Five Points during pillow talk?”

Priestley sniffed. “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my man about the bastards who killed my husband?”

“Not sure you’re in a position to snipe at us when you got over Callum so quickly,” Brennan rumbled. “And I know for a fact that Finn has been giving you cash, so it’s not like you need?—”

“You gave her cash?” I blurted out, shaking my head. “Jesus, you are fucking pussies for bitches.”

“She hadn’t done anything wrong by that point,” Brennan snapped. “And she has a kid.”

“She’s got two arms and legs as well. There are things called a job. She spends her days at home alone with Callum’s mom looking after the kid. Lazy bitch.

“You weren’t such a ‘mommy’ then, were you? What were you—Reinier’s sugar baby?” I scoffed, kicking her in her bad shoulder until she was sobbing on the ground again. “You sold out the people who were literally putting food on your fucking table, you stupid cunt.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t!”

“You did, you lying bitch. You can tell me what you said or you can enjoy an extended stay here. The choice is yours.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she screamed, her face turning red hot.

“Maybe she didn’t?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled at Forrest, who jumped back in surprise. “She did. The word of the person who told me is sacrosanct. This cunt’s isn’t. She sold your people out. Her husband sold your people out. She’s a fucking traitor. If you can’t handle this, leave it to someone who goddamn can.”

Blanching, Forrest hunched his shoulders. “She seems convincing.”

“Because she’s got a pussy, you believe her? You should know not to trust something that bleeds once a month and doesn’t die,” I sneered.

“By that logic, we can’t trust you,” Brennan retorted.

“You can trust me because I’d die for Conor and Conor would do anything for his family. That’s how you can trust me. You’re fucking lucky. Not many people get that kind of grace from me.” I narrowed my eyes at the unlikely trio. “You three can head on out and leave this to someone who she can’t bat her eyelashes at and convince she’s innocent.” When none of them made a move, I barked, “Get the fuck out.”

“You heard the lady,” Brennan rumbled, directing Forrest and Bagpipes with a jerk of his chin. He slouched back against the wall though.

“Are you sure, Bren?” Forrest inquired, edgy with nerves as he kept on glancing at Priestley.

“I’m sure. Leave the psycho and the traitor with me,” he said with a sigh.

As they traipsed out, I whispered to Priestley, “I’m going to rip your fingernails off. Are you ready for that? Every time you don’t answer a question, that’s your punishment.”

Her gaze darted over to Brennan—it was loaded with a plea. I snapped a glare at him but found he was staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused.

Though I heaved an inward sigh, I saw the change in Priestley when she realized that her best chance of getting out of here with her head attached had walked out of the back room.

The change was immediate.

Satisfying too.

Men were led by their dicks.

“You can’t do this to me,” she hissed, that ‘lost little girl’ look fading from her expression to be replaced with that of the stone-cold bitch she was.

“Where did your tears go?” I mocked.

“You can’t treat me like this. I’m a Five Pointer’s wife!”

“I think it’s unwise to use that as an argument,” Brennan retorted. “Seeing as your ties to the Five Points are through two traitors.”

Two ?

"Her father-in-law," he said, answering my silent question.

Priestley growled, “You have to stop her, Brennan. She’s going to hurt me and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Do you know who Danny is?” I queried, getting up from my standing position to peer down at her.

“He’s a pencil pusher,” she dismissed.

I angled my head to the side as I studied her, knowing full well that she was a consummate liar. “What’s your son’s name?”

She reared back in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s his name?”

“Niall. Are you going to hurt him too?”

For the first time, I saw genuine concern in her expression.

Hmm .

“Your mother’s name?”

“Sandra.” She swallowed. “She’s dead. You can’t get to her anymore.”

“Shut up, Priestley. Answer the questions she asks,” Brennan retorted.

“Where did you meet Danny?”

“At a bar.”

“Who approached who?”

“I-I approached him.”

“Classy,” Brennan retorted.

“Callum was murdered over a year ago.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t know where he was for the most part,” he snarled. “No body, no death certificate.”

Before he could piss me off by calling her a whore—the double standards with these mobsters were annoying—I demanded, “What was Danny’s job?”

“He was some kind of pencil pusher! I’m telling you I don’t know that much about him!”

There .

Just the faintest of flickers beside her mouth—right at the corner.

“You’re lying.”

I pulled out a sapphire nail file, which she studied with flared eyes as she started wriggling backward on her ass.

As if that would stop me.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” I rasped, kicking my booted foot against her dislocated shoulder.

When she screeched and fell back, I grabbed her ‘good’ hand, holding it firm as she struggled despite the pain, then I popped the tip of the file beneath her thumbnail.

As I levered against it, she released an agonized scream that made her wails of before look mild in comparison.

“No lying,” I said simply when her acrylic and real nail were on the ground.

She stared at me with wild, dazed eyes, her hand cradled against her chest as blood gently spurted from the wound, dribbling down her jacket.

Bewilderedly, she whispered, “He worked for some kind of agency.”

“A modeling agency?” I mocked.

Staring down at her nail-less thumb, she whispered, “No. He was in law enforcement.”

“Did you know when you approached him?”

Her mouth trembled. “I did. I’d heard him talking on the phone outside.”

“What made you approach him? Revenge?”

“No!”

Lie.

“Liar,” I rumbled, jerking the nail file at her until she was scrabbling away from me, dragging her ass against the ground.

As I chased her, she cried, “No! It wasn’t revenge!”

“What was it, then?”

“I heard him talking about Conor—” She flashed both Brennan and I desperate looks. “—on the phone with someone called Smythe. H-He said…”

“What did he say?” I questioned when she let the words fade.

“They were laughing,” she whispered. “About getting rid of him. I was going to help! Going to help save him?—”

I couldn’t stop my chuckle from falling. “Two lies. Two nails, Priestley.”

She started sobbing before I got anywhere near her. This time, I didn’t have to kick her shoulder to incapacitate her. Brennan was there. His foot was on her chest as he held her down, snarling, “You knew someone was going to come after Conor and didn’t warn us? That was your one fucking chance to get back in our good books, bitch.”

Priestley was too busy screaming as I tore off two more nails.

When she fainted from the pain, I stared at Brennan triumphantly. “Still think she should be saved because she’s a girl?”

His mouth was taut and there was a raging fire in his eyes at the danger she could have spared Conor from.

I had my answer.