Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“I believe you did.” His voice drops an inch lower, steady, certain. “You’re blushing again.”
I press my palm flat against the counter to ground myself. He’s dangerous in too many ways. Still, the fact that he wants me might be leverage. He gave me twenty-four hours to run after I help him, which is a decent window. He has no idea how good I am at disappearing.
I’ll need to check in with the ladies before I vanish. But first … curiosity edges out fear. If there’s a back door from Aquarius Social into TimeGem Moments, there might be one buried inside Malice Media, too. I want into his servers. Bad.
I look up at him. “Have you hacked Aquarius lately?”
“No.” His tone hardens. “We haven’t touched their servers since Thorn and Alana—” He stops, jaw flexing.
“Combusted the world together?” I finish for him.
His mouth pulls tight. “Something like that. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” I say, though my pulse spikes. “Trying to see where everyone stands. Things are shifting.”
“Yeah.” His eyes darken further. “I feel it too.”
The elevator dings, echoing across the penthouse. Justice pushes his half-eaten plate toward the sink
He levels one last look at me. “I’ll be back, Ella. Be ready.”
FOURTEEN
Justice
Blood and torture aren’t my thing. Neither are voices that lie and scratch my skin like ribbons. My legs are killing me. I slice the neck of the final guy standing, or rather sitting tied to a chair, in the torture room dug into the rocks. The ocean rolls almost happily in the darkness beneath us, and I can smell the salt and spray through the copper scent around me. I wipe the knife on the now-dead thief, making sure the obsidian and garnet accents on the hilt are clean.
Oh, he’s evil. Not just a moron who shot me and tried to take Ella. There’s a local gang that hires out for jobs when they’re not trafficking women and kids. So many kids. He’s high up in 21 Purple and has more blood and lost innocence on his hands than I do. By far. Killing him is doing the world a service, although that isn’t exactly my thing, either.
Thorn likes to mete out punishment to enemies. Sometimes needs to feel his fists pounding his anger away. I do it for the job. Because it’s necessary.
I’m not mellower than my brother, not by any means. I’m just colder. I have to wonder if that’s why the virus in the garnet tried to freeze him to death and is just working to drive me insane. I’m already too cold to freeze.
Sheathing my knife, I turn and forget about the three dead gangbangers immediately. I reach the outside ledge and look down, barely seeing the spray as ocean waves smash against the rocks. Clouds mostly cover the moon, and a light rain falls.
Wynd reaches me, solid and quiet at my side. “Did they give anything up?”
“No. They were hired to take Ella but don’t know why.” They would’ve told me. I’m good at my job.
Wynd sighs. “Bodies?”
“Burn and scatter the ashes far out in the ocean like usual,” I murmur, his voice mildly brushing my skin but not causing any damage. I wonder if Ella can fix my problem. Then I banish thoughts of her. While she’s the enemy, her small pixie-like face doesn’t belong in my head that’s still filled with screams of pain. “I don’t like that they had no clue who hired them.”
“Probably Alexei,” Wynd replies, stretching his neck. “He’s still consolidating power after retaking Hologrid Hub.”
“Maybe.” But I think Alexei would’ve kidnapped Ella and not just hired a local gang. That isn’t his style. He likes to get his hands dirty. I’ve heard he’s busy updating the servers at Hologrid, which is a social media platform that allows users to meet in holographic form at any time and in any place. Plus, his home compound is almost finished, and my contacts at the granite supply store tell me that Rosalie is driving him crazy with finishing touches. The idea amuses me. “Have Rick and Jocco take care of the bodies.”
Wynd nods and doesn’t ask questions. He’s a distant cousin and understands loyalty.
I turn and stride up the rough stone steps and pause at another landing, this one with a roaring fire going, to toss in all of my clothes. Blood burns away. Trying to wash it out of fibers is a rookie mistake that ends with prison.
Then I move toward the far edge of the rock and hit a button so water cascades down over me. A quick rinse with soap, and I’m clean. Of the most recent blood, anyway. I grab a backpack off a ledge, take out a towel, and dry off before donning jeans and a T-shirt. Not my usual fare, but keeping a suit wrapped in a backpack is just stupid.