Page 102 of The Betrayal You Serve

He laughs as he walks over to the chair beneath the window and drags it over.

"He took the bait then."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Just about," he mutters, dropping his eyes to my stitched-up bullet wound. "Doc did a good job, eh?"

"He's had plenty of practice over the years," he deadpans.

"I guess so."

Silence stretches out between us.

"You confident with everything from here on out?"

"Of course, man. I've got this. I… uh… I told Letty she could talk to Alana," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I told her she could talk to her too, let Alana explain her side."

"Want me to get her up or…"

"It's up to you, man. She's your prisoner."

He chuckles in a way that makes his eyes light up.

"You're enjoying having her here a little too much, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

A loud crash echoes through the house followed by what I can only assume are a string of curses from Letty.

"I should probably…" He thumbs over his shoulder. "Yeah, I would. That sounded expensive."

Pushing from the chair, he walks to the door before looking back at me.

"You got a good one there, Kane. Don't let her go."

"Not planning on it, man."

* * *

After Letty brought me up sandwiches and confessed to smashing almost every one of Reid's plates on his tiled floor, I crashed with her wrapped around me like a monkey. It was perfect aside from the agony I was in and the fact she still refused to blow me.

The weight that had been pressing down on my shoulders for… well, years, had finally lifted. I was no longer Victor's puppet and I was free to get on with my life. As long as Reid follows through on his end—which I have no doubt he will, then it's over. Really over.

I lay watching the sun creep up through the window as Letty begins to stir beside me.

"Morning, Princess," I whisper when her eyelashes flutter open.

"Hey," she says, her eyes immediately lighting up when she looks at me and a wide smile spreading across her lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus," I confess.

"Well, you're looking hot. The blue and purple really suits you," she mutters, gesturing to my busted face with her finger.

"Yeah? I knew you'd like it," I joke.

"I fucking hate it, Kane. I kept waking up during the night with the image of him pointing a gun at you."