Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I've already said goodbye to Donny too many times.
This time, it needs to stick. This time, I need to stay gone.
For both our sakes.
THIRTY-THREE
MADS
I spot Moira instantly, when I walk into the dingy bar. I texted her after leaving Domhnall's. I didn't want to wait until tonight to talk to her. She's exactly where she said she'd be---perched on a barstool like she owns the place, a chaotic ball of energy in a leather jacket.
Before I can even approach her, she sees me and launches herself in my direction.
"Bitch!" she yells, wrapping her arms around me like a clingy octopus. I stand there rigidly, uncomfortable with the contact, my muscles tensing. Public displays of affection have never been my thing. Her grip only tightens at my resistance, squeezing the air from my lungs.
"Moira," I wheeze out, relief flooding through me when she finally releases me with a dramatic flourish.
"Look at you! Out and about in the daylight. I'm gonna start calling you Daywalker," she says with that typical Moira exuberance.
I snort at the vampire reference, then glance over my shoulder, scanning the bar carefully. Old habits. I'm looking for Pavel's men. I know they're watching me, tracking my every move. The bar is dim, the kind of place where the wood is dark and sticky, the air smells like stale beer, and the neon lights buzz just a little too loudly. Perfect for what I need to do---get Moira to break up with this Bane guy without drawing attention.
Moira narrows her eyes at me. "You got a stalker?"
"What?" I force out a laugh that sounds false even to my own ears. Deflect, deflect. "What do you wanna drink?" I head for the bar, then glance sideways at her, trying to slip into our normal banter. "Wait. Are you even old enough to drink yet?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Ha ha. We're practically the same age."
I roll mine back harder. "Cute. I'm a hundred and seventeen years your senior in trauma years."
She winces, and I feel a flicker of guilt. It's an unfair advantage, bringing up my past. But I need her cooperative, and if making her uncomfortable helps, so be it. My mind stays laser-focused on my goal: get her to break up with Bane, keep Domhnall safe, keep us all alive.
"I'll take a beer," she tells the bartender, who's eyeing us both like we're the most interesting thing to walk in all day.
"You sure? Not more shots?" he asks, his gaze lingering on my cleavage longer than necessary.
Before I can tell him exactly what I think of that look, Moira shoves me aside. "Two beers," she says flatly.
He huffs but turns to grab them.
"You can close out her tab, too," I add, nodding toward Moira's earlier drinks. He brings the receipt for her to sign.
She grabs both beers and heads for a table. I follow, watching her movements, trying to gauge her mood. This would be so much easier if Moira wasn't so damn unpredictable. If she were just a normal person with normal reactions, I could manipulate her easily. But Moira's chaos makes her hard to control.
"Look at baby bear all grown up," I coo, ruffling her hair like she's a child. It's a calculated move to establish dominance and remind her of our age difference, even if it's minimal.
She bats my hand away and takes a long pull from her beer, meeting my gaze over the rim. "So, you just wanna hang, or are we actually gonna talk about the fact that you snuck back into your own damn house like a teenager past curfew?"
I wave a dismissive hand, my heart clenching at the mention of the night she caught me crawling in a window after sneaking out to go check my servers. Domhn's got a security system on the house that's intense, and the workaround on the windows was easier than the doors. "Oh, that was nothing."
Then I tip my head back and chug my beer. I need liquid courage for what comes next. Not a sip. Not a gulp. Just a long, steady pour down my throat until the bottle is almost empty. The cold helps numb the ache that's been constant since I walked away from Domhn. I slam the bottle back on the table with a sigh, elbows propped up, blinking against the slight burn in my eyes.
She just stares. "Right. Totally normal behavior."
I lick a drop of beer from my lip and lean in, deciding to go straight for the target. "It's you I wanna hear about. You still got something going on with that priest I met a while back?"
She freezes mid-sip. Good. I've caught her off guard. This is what I need---to unbalance her, find her weak spot, and press on it until she gives me what I want.
She sets her beer down, clearing her throat. "Yeah. We've got a little something going on."