Page 18 of Chaos Kills

Then he backs off.

When I don’t move at first, Ozzy continues to gape at me, patiently waiting for me to do what he silently asks or wishes.

“I don’t take gifts from strangers.”

“Take it,” he orders and, oh damn, he does have some of that Wildes blood in him after all.

“How about you take it and tell me what it is?” I shoot back.

He doesn’t.

No, a Wildes man isn’t going to take orders from some piddly little girl like me.

“I can do this all night,” I hedge when he doesn’t move. “It’ll be a rude awakening for what you signed up for.”

His unyielding stare doesn’t waver off me when he replies, “I already know what I signed up for.”

Okay.

I push my lips out, contemplating what Emilio may have already said about me.

Not that it matters.

I didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t request for this weirdo to show up either.

“Then it’s going to be a long night,” I deadpan, kicking out one foot and leaning more of my weight against the hard wall of the train.

Ozzy slowly bends over, plucking the folded parchment from the ground before taking one step and dropping it in my lap.

Then he fucks off.

With my left hand and my right still on my gun, I begin opening it, and Ozzy’s eyes descend to my blanket.

He knows.

I’m impressed as fuck.

A faint smirk pulls at my lips as I steal my attention off him and down at the document that presents that it’s from the county.

On the first page, it has an address and my name.

“What is this?” Nothing. “I only speak English, dude. So, if you can’t open your mouth, get the fuck out.”

When I don’t receive an answer, I slice my focus back up to long strands of black hair covering half of his face. The hollows of his cheeks and cut jawline clean of facial hair. It’s those eyes that damn me to make another shitty comment.

Deep,deepblue.

“It’s a house.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask, lifting the paper in the air.

“It’s yours.”

His voice is an exposure of deep precariousness and stripped bare of emotion. Just like his expression. He shows none of his cards when he stares at me, watching my every move and reaction, which could make him the deadliest of my enemies or the best ally I’ve ever had.

“This…is our house?” It makes me sick to think about, and I won’t allow it. Thankfully, he promptly shakes his head, as if that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “Then?—”

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