Page 65 of Villains Series

SIXTY MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT

THE ESQUIRE HOTEL

SERENA toweled off her hair, holding strands up to the bathroom light to make sure Zachary Flinch hadn’t stained them.

She’d had to shower three times to get the feel of brain and blood off her skin, and even now, raw from scrubbing, with her hair probably damaged from the rinse repeat of it all, she didn’t feel clean.

Clean was clearly not skin deep when it came to killing.

It was only the second execution she’d ever been to.

The first had been Sydney’s.

Serena cringed at the thought of it.

Maybe that’s why she’d wanted to go, to wash the memory of her sister’s almost-murder from her mind, replace it with some fresher horror, as if one scene could paint over the other.

Or maybe she’d asked to go along because she knew Eli would hate it—she knew how much his removals mattered to him, how much they belonged to him—and that he’d resist.

Sometimes those moments when he fought back, when she could see the spark of defiance, were the only ones that made her feel alive.

She hated living in such a limp world, every glazed eye and simple nod a reminder that nothing mattered.

She would start to let go, and then Eli would fight back and force her to tighten her grip.

She wondered with a thrill if maybe one day he would even break free.

Finally satisfied that the blood didn’t stain, she dried her hair, pulled on a robe, and made her way into the living room, tapping the computer awake.

She logged on to the police database, and filled out th.

“Middle Name”

window of the search form with ELI, expecting it to return with no results, since Eli should have dispatched Dominic by now, but the search came back with two profiles.

The first belonged to Dominic.

But the second belonged to Victor.

She read the profile three times, chewing her lip, then searched the room for her phone, which she’d lobbed onto the bed when she got in.

She found it beneath a pile of clothes and towels, and was halfway through punching in Eli’s number, when she stopped.

Less than an hour until midnight.

It was a trap.

Eli would know it, too, of course, but he would go anyway.

Why shouldn’t he? Whatever Eli’s enemy was planning, there was only one way this night would end, and that was with Victor Vale in a body bag.

And Sydney? Serena’s chest tightened.

Her resolve had faltered the first time; she didn’t know if she had the strength to watch Eli try again.

Even if it wasn’t really her sister, just a shadow of the little girl who’d clung to her side for twelve years, an imposter in her sister’s shape.

Even then.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She could drag the file to the trash.

Eli wouldn’t find it in time.

But it would only be a stay of execution.

Victor wanted to find Eli, and Eli wanted to find Victor, and one way or another, they would succeed.

She looked at Victor’s profile one last time, and tried to picture the man who had once been Eli’s friend, who had brought him back, made him what he was, saved her sister … and for a moment, as she finished dialing Eli’s number, she almost wished he stood a fighting chance.