Page 190 of Stolen Voices

“I need favor,” I tell him.

He smirks. “Learning from the master, I see.”

“Damn straight. Are you in, or are you out?”

“In. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

For the first time in hours, a smile splits my face. I am so freaking ready for this. “Thank you. Feel like picking up a few good men along the way?”

“Lead the way.” Boone follows me down the hall.

When I march into the waiting room, the four men I’m looking for stop mid-conversation and stare at me.

Jace’s eyes glow eerily, like Eli’s do, a knowing smile on his face. “You found your answers, didn’t you?”

“I sure as hell did,” I exclaim, more than determined to put my plan into action. “Ready to cash in some favors?”

forty-two

Callie

Ipatandsmoothdown my favorite chambray jean shirt with pockets, for the tenth time in the last five minutes, trying to brush off the nervous energy surrounding me.

When I planned my confrontation with my half-sister, I knew there was no better place to meet than here—at our father’s penthouse, where my prison sentence began. It’s the perfect spot to put an end to her.

The elevator dings, and I quit pacing the length of the living room and take a seat on the couch, waiting for Silla to arrive. I run my fingers over the cool metal beside me and take a deep, calming breath.

In the distance, I hear the front door open and the click of Silla’s high heels on the hardwood floors as she walks down the hall.

You can do this.

As usual, Silla struts into the living room like she’s on a catwalk, waiting for the audience to gasp and awe at her presence. She thinks she’s untouchable. I’d laugh at her haughty attitude if the shock of watching Bryan Novak following her into the apartment didn’t make the air in my lungs seize. His face is a stony mask as he leans against the wall, looking bored.

My fear turns to white-hot anger at the sight of the man who murdered my father.

Focus, Callie. Bring Silla down first, then the murdering bastard.

Channeling my rage, I turn to Silla and smile. “Hello,sister. So nice of you to join me.”

Her eyes narrow at the endearment, hatred spewing from her glare. “Callie,” she gloats like she’s already won the game.

The problem is, I’m not playing a game; I’m going to war, and I plan to win.

In a pathetic power play, she walks over and kisses Novak on the mouth.

Bile rises in my esophagus. This bitch thinks she’s going to walk out of here unscathed. I’m giddy with anticipation of seeing her face when she realizes what I’ve done to her.

I clear my throat, and they break apart. Novak stays at the door, like a good little lapdog, as Silla walks over and takes a seat on the arch chair across from me.

“I’m here. What do you want, Callie?” She seductively crosses her legs and places her hands in her lap.

“To tell you we’re through. It’s over, Silla.All of it,” I state firmly, hoping she reads between the lines.

My skin crawls as she throws her head back in a shrill laugh. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

I bite back a smile at her cluelessness. “Wrong. You’re done, Silla. I talked to David Jenkins. I know everything.”

Her eyes widen, slightly shocked. She recovers quickly, snapping at me. “You’re lying. You don’t know anything.”