Page 59 of No Control

I blink at the grainy footage, struggling to make out the picture shown. My heart pounds as I watch the video embedded in the article. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat as I watch my ex-fiancé walk out of the bar and then disappear into oblivion.

twenty-three

Henry

“That’s some really good footage manipulation,” I muse as I peer over Jude’s shoulder, taking in the sight of AI generated Mason leaving the bar.

“It’s wild, because there’s even witnesses saying they saw him there.” Jude looks over at me, grinning. “Mad what people think they remember based off a completely fake video.”

I bob my head and lean back in the chair. “People can be manipulated to believe anything when the right person is doing it.”

“Like you and Lydia.”

I glare at him. “No. I’m not manipulating her, I’m just not telling her all of the truth. My intention with her is…” I stop myself from saying good, because I don’t know that I ever have good intentions with anything—though this last hit has me questioning my cold-bloodedness. And speaking of… “Have you caught any movement from the widow and daughters?”

“No, but we got paid this morning.” His voice drops as he looks over at me. “And hopefully, they stay quiet about it. Nothing has hit the news about his death, but I don’t know if I should even try to manipulate anything to make it out like he ran off. I never tamper when there’re witnesses. We let the police handle it and we go dark.”

I tense my jaw, that nagging gut feeling returning. “It’ll be fine. Assholes go missing all the time. And like I said, for all we know, the wife called the hit.”

“But we don’t know that for sure,” Jude argues.

“Fuck, man, let it go,” I rumble. “We’ll deal with it if something comes of it. There’s no point in worrying over it now. It’s a waste of time.”

Jude exhales sharply but doesn’t push. “Lydia is downstairs making her dinner.” He pulls up the security camera in the kitchen and nods as Lydia pulls out one of the already-made dinners. “If you’re going to do this right, it might be nice for her to not eat alone every night. Don’t just show up and fuck her. Women don’t like that.”

I blink a couple of times and stand to my feet. “Since when do you know anything about women?”

He chuckles. “I don’t know shit, but I do know that.”

“Thanks for the info.” I roll my shoulders and head downstairs, making quick work of the distance. By the time I make it to the kitchen, Lydia is sliding onto a bar stool, her fork hovering over the broccoli and cheese stuffed chicken and rice.

“Hey,” I greet her.

Her eyes don’t move from the fork. “Hey.”

Well, this is awkward.

“You wanna go out for dinner or something?” I’m pretty sure I sound as weird as I feel in the moment, but it gets her attention at least.

Lydia lifts her head. “Go out for dinner?”

“Uh, yeah,” I chuckle, folding my arms across my chest. “Isn’t that what people do who are together?”

Her eyes narrow. “So we’re together?”

“Why are you questioning every word that comes out of my mouth, Lydia? I fucked you. We’re together.”

“Like a fling.”

What. The. Hell.

“No. I don’t do flings. Not with you.”

“Good to know,” she snorts, shaking her head. She stabs the fork violently into a piece of chicken, lifting it to her mouth. However, just as I think she’s about to take a bite, she drops it back down. “I’m not hungry.”

“So you don’t want to go out?”

“No,” she says flatly, sliding off the stool. “Whoever cooks all your food is great, though. Better than eating out.” Lydia picks up the glass Tupperware lid and places it back on the container.

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