Page 9 of Retaliation

He watched her, irritation and amusement bubbling beneath his calm facade. She always knew how to get under his skin, but there was something about her presence that was… comforting. “Only you would know that,” he said, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Only me?” Her eyebrows drew together in a mock frown, her expression the picture of innocence—though he knew better.

“Don’t start with your riddle shit,” he warned. “You always do it, and you know I hate it. Just get to your point already.” His frustration seeped into his words.

Kitiara always played her games, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but be entertained.

She threw her hands up, the dramatic gesture earning an eye roll from him. “No riddle, promise. But why is this your go-to hiding spot?”

He leaned back, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “When did you get back?” His palms pressed against the rough wood of the crate, grounding him in the uncertainty she always brought with her. If she was back in town, it couldn’t be for any good reason. But he knew better than to pry—it was above his pay grade.

His mind flickered to the loft above, the refuge he had carved out of chaos after Rex’s death. She didn’t need to know about the changes he’d made, how he’d tried to impose order on the mess left behind. She hadn’t been back since then, and he wasn’t ready to share that part of his world with anyone yet.

“Earlier today,” she replied with a faint smile, her eyes knowing.

“And you didn’t call?” A pinch of disappointment slipped through, one he tried to swallow. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

A flicker of a smile touched her lips, just enough to make him wonder if she knew exactly what he was feeling. Of course, she did. She always did.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Her smile was wide and cat-like, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Besides, if I had called, you wouldn’t have met her.” She raised one eyebrow, the emphasis on‘her’unmistakable.

His jaw tightened. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I would have worked either way. You know how the boss is.” The words felt automatic, a defensive reflex. Then, her implication hit him like a punch. “Wait, you saw her?” He murmured, sitting upright, his pulse quickening.

He despised the vulnerability in his voice, the way his heart betrayed his indifference. But Kitiara had always been able to draw out the truth, her presence a relentless mirror.

“Of course, I saw the two of you. To be honest, I was on my way to the party, but you two came outside. And it didn’t look like the time to bother you.” Her tone was casual, but the knowing glint in her eyes pierced through his façade.

His mind raced, replaying the encounter. The intensity of Poison’s gaze, the fire in her movements. He tried to suppress the growing intrigue, but it clung to him stubbornly. Kitiara’s perceptiveness was both a blessing and a curse.

“You like her, don’t you?” Her words cut through his thoughts, a direct hit to the truth he wasn’t ready to face.

He scoffed, the sound rough and uncertain. “I just have no fucking clue who she is. She came out of nowhere, and apparently, she’s a streetfighter.” His voice carried a mix of frustration and fascination.

He didn’t know why he was surprised; Kitiara had eyes everywhere, and no filter between her brain and mouth. She saw everything, missed nothing, and now, she saw right through him.

The memory of Poison’s fierce rebelliousness flickered in his mind, a contrast to the usual monotony. She was a storm he hadn’t anticipated, and the thrill of it was beyond intoxicating. But with that thrill came danger, and he had learned long ago that getting too close could burn. Yet, despite himself, he was drawn to the flame, curious about the woman who had ignited something dormant within him.

The woman before him kept quiet, letting him lay out all the puzzle pieces. His thoughts raced, each piece leading to another dead end. Frustration gnawed at him. When he came up empty, he looked at her.

“Why haven’t I seen her before? It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.” He buried his face in his hands, confused and irritated.

“I know why.” Her casual shrug contrasted sharply with his turmoil.

“Why?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he raised his eyebrows at her. “What is it that you don’t want to tell me?”

“Relax, won’t you?” Her calmness grated on his nerves, but he forced himself to take a breath. She waited until his shoulders eased before she continued.

“You wouldn’t have seen her in the Temple before because she doesn’t come to our ring. She frequents a ring on the other side of the city. Italians’ territory.”

“Is she part of them?” he asked, his curiosity tinged with an unexpected hope. If she belonged to the Italians, it might be the barrier he needed to maintain his distance—though he couldn’t fathom why the thought of staying away troubled him so much. Women were trouble, and he’d had his share.

“No, she’s not.” Kitiara laughed, a light sound that held no malice. “She’s apparently holding up her own. It seems as if she has no affiliation with any of the families

in the city.”

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, feeling hope swell inside him despite the danger of letting it. Her independence intrigued him, and that alone was a risky path.

“Unfortunately, that’s all I could dig up in the past hour, but if you like this woman, then I say go for it. I don’t see any reason not to.” She sounded sincere, and it gave him a strange sense of relief.

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