Page 2 of Killian's Vengeance

“Good. How did we miss it?” Cullen grunted, sliding his hands in his pocket and pulling out his smokes, quickly lighting one up. “Fuck, I needed that,” he said as he exhaled a plume of smoke.

“The place is in Mac’s fucking name, that’s why we couldn’t find it.”

Cullen’s jaw tightened. “Fucking bitch.”

I grunted in agreement. That bitch was still taking advantage of Mac, even after he was dead. Using his money and generosity to hide from her crimes. I couldn’t wait to get my fucking hands on her. We were going to bring her in and get the name of the motherfucker she was working with, the motherfucker who killed Mac. We looked hard into Lily Jensen, but she didn’t have anything remotely violent in her history, so in all likelihood the fuckface she was shacked up with probably popped Mac.

I didn’t care if she didn’t pull the trigger, she was just as guilty, if not more so. She fucked with his head, with his emotions, and pulled him into something that took his life.

I couldn’t wait to get a hold of her, to wrap my hands around her skinny neck and squeeze until she gasped for breath and begged for mercy. There wouldn’t be any. Not from me. I should give a fuck that she was a woman, but I didn’t. She was part of the reason Mac was dead, therefore she got no mercy.

Lily Jensen was as good as dead.

Chapter 2

Willa

Icautiously opened the door to my sister’s apartment, once again wondering why she’d asked me to come here. I hadn’t seen Lily much in the last couple of years. We didn’t exactly have typical sisterly bonds. In fact, we were practically strangers. Lily was eight years older, and though we looked enough alike to be twins—classically Scandinavian, with our long, white-blond hair, pale blue eyes—our personalities couldn’t have been more different.

Lily had always been prickly, demanding, and selfish, which made trying to be close with her a chore and a headache. My early childhood had been dominated by my attempts to navigate her hostility and aggression, and I was profoundly relieved when she left home at eighteen. They were the most peaceful years of my life.

Until our parents died.

They died in a car accident when I was eighteen, a devastating blow as I fumbled my way into adulthood. They didn’t leave much in the way of an inheritance, somehow owing more on our family home than it was worth.

By then, Lily had been out of the house for years, only returning when she wanted something from them. Our parents often lamented how they had gone wrong with Lily, not understanding how they could have raised such a thoughtless, self-involved child and always uncertain of how to handle her demands. They’d called her insensitive, but I think the words they were looking for were closer to psycho. I still felt pangs of grief when I thought of my parents, two people who still loved each other when they died and had tried to give me the best childhood possible regardless of their limited income.

Because of their death and my sister’s absence, I clung particularly hard to my friendships. They gave me my only sense of connection, of family. Holidays were terrible, either spent alone or awkwardly tagging along with a friend. My closest friends, Jasmine and Vanessa, were lovely about it, offering invitations, telling me how much they wanted me to come home and celebrate with them, but sometimes that was worse. When I saw their loving families and happy homes, it made me even more despondent. I usually shook it off, but sometimes the sadness sat on top of me like another layer of skin.

I was in my third year of college, three years after the accident, and barely scraping by on student loans and my part-time job as a server at a high-end restaurant. Even my major—fine arts with a focus in photography—brought me a pang of grief. My mom would often say that even as a small child, I would beg her to let me take pictures and we spent countless hours creating photo albums to whatever had caught my interest.

As I grew up, I got more serious. With my limited finances, I usually had to borrow equipment from the school, feeling heartsick when I had to return it. I loved playing with exposure times and using different settings to create something unusual and beautiful with ordinary objects.

I looked around Lily’s pristine living room, enchanted by the partial view of the Chicago skyline. I pulled out my phone to take a quick snap, then shook my head and focused on why I’d come here. Lily’s ID.

Our nearly identical appearance was actually the reason I was here. After significant internal debate and peer pressure from my friends, I’d asked to borrow her driver’s license one time when I first started college. I was still sporadically in touch with Lily since our parents had just died. Being Lily, she acted like I’d asked for a kidney, instead of a driver’s license, screaming that I was a juvenile delinquent and must be an alcoholic. Needless to say, I never asked again.

Out of nowhere, she texted me last night and said she wanted to see me and that I could have her ID, saying she got a copy and didn’t need her original and that I could use it until I turned twenty-one.

I had been tempted to blow off the offer since I was already twenty—it was just like her to offer me something when I didn’t really need it anymore—but it was my friend Vanessa’s twenty-first birthday next weekend and I really wanted to celebrate with her and all of our friends.

Now I was here for the ID feeling awkward, out of place and eager to get this interaction over with. I looked around the apartment, a feeling of discomfort sitting between my shoulder blades. The ID was sitting on the empty counter, just as she said it would be. I grabbed it and slid it into my pocket. While I wasn’t sure what she was up to, I was at least going to get the ID.

“Lily?” I called out, feeling weird about being in her place alone. I hadn’t even known where her apartment was until she texted me the address last night. It was a surprisingly nice place, with an open concept kitchen and living room and an unbelievable view of downtown Chicago. I had no idea how she afforded it considering I’d never known Lily to have a job.

Now that I had the ID, I debated whether to stay or just leave. She told me I could take the license but I had to wait for her if she wasn’t there because she wanted to see me. It was an unusual request considering her usual apathy toward me, but I could hardly refuse since she was being so generous.

Unsure what to do, I plopped down on the edge of her couch and pulled out my phone to text her.

Willa: Are you coming back soon? I have the ID – can I just take off?

She replied faster than she’d ever replied to one of my texts.

Lily: No! Stay there. I am coming back soon with some food for us for dinner.

I frowned and looked at the clock. It was only two in the afternoon. How long did she expect us to hang out?

Willa: I’m not sure I can stay for so long. I have plans tonight.

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