Page 85 of Conflicted Lies

Lucas swallows. “Okay, then let’s go upstairs. But I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”

The walk up the stairs is awkward. Braxton places his hand on my lower back, guiding me to the second floor. It’s always so quiet in this building, and when I’m acutely aware of his partner glaring at my back, it makes me feel… a little stabby.

“I thought it was going to be just us when you asked me to come over,” Lucas growls, irritated. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Braxton set this up? I go on high alert as Braxton comes to a stop at his door and unlocks it.

Fuck. What if this is an ambush? I offer a tight smile as Braxton pushes me into the room, and his partner follows. A low twist in my stomach stirs as I get the feeling that something is off.

His partner leans into him, and I can just hear as he asks if they can talk in private as he looks over his shoulder at me. Something isn’t right. Braxton is watching me carefully, and I’m certain he already knows I’m ready to run out the fucking door. But he’s blocking the way. If I leave now, it’ll only seem more suspicious. But he organized for Lucas and me to both come here. Did I fall for a trap?

“I’ll go to the bathroom and give you a few minutes to speak,” I say with a tight smile.

Braxton grabs my elbow and slides his hand down to mine as I walk past him. I look over my shoulder at him, and he mouths,“Trust me.”

Then, my gaze flicks to Lucas, who is still glaring at me. Trust him, my ass. I’m in a fucking trap.

The moment I’m in the bathroom, I call my father. He answers on the second ring. “I think I’ve fucked up. Can you come and get me?” I whisper quietly and then hang up. I don’t wait for my father’s reply; I simply send him my location as I lock the bathroom door behind me and scan the space for a weapon.

Fucking minimalist asshole. At best, I have a pair of trimming scissors. I scoop them up and sit at the edge of the bathtub, and my ears strain to hear what they’re saying. I think Lucas is attempting to whisper, but Braxton’s apartment echoes. Braxton must know this, but he speaks clearly and precisely. Everything feels off. Why did he invite Lucas here when he had every intention of bringing me here, too? I’m literally trapped in a bathroom with no fucking window or other way of escape.

“You need to get away from her immediately,” Lucas whispers. “I thought you were smarter than getting involved with the enemy.”

“I know who her family is, and it doesn’t bother me,” Braxton tells him.

“It should.” Lucas lets out a groan, and I can imagine him throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you fell under her spell. Sure, she’s easy on the eyes?—”

“Don’t speak about my woman like that,” Braxton growls. “Or this conversation will change very quickly. I’m telling you now, you need to back off.”

“Have you taken money from her? Is that how you’re able to own this apartment building?” Lucas asks in disbelief. My nose scrunches up. Braxton owns this place? And not just his apartment, but the whole building? How did I not know that? Maybe he’s sneakier than I initially thought.

Braxton is quiet for a moment, and I wonder if that wasn’t common knowledge. “Have you been digging up information on me, Lucas?” he asks, his tone becoming more noticeably clipped.

“No, I just… I knew something about this case was making you act differently, and it didn’t make sense.”

“You told me you had evidence against her, which is why I invited you here. But if you’re wrong, Lucas…”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m definitely in a trap.

I look down at my phone. I know my father will be here in a matter of minutes.

My heart breaks as I realize I’m as gullible as Aunt Anya accused me of being. She was right. I was foolish to think he genuinely cared for me more than his job. He’s literally set me up.

A wild rage fuels my blood, and an insatiable urge to kill him takes over. I do everything in my power to stay where I am. My gift is being able to take men by surprise, but right now, there’s no way I’ll be able to overpower two men with a tiny pair of scissors. I text my father.

Me: Don’t kill him. His death is mine.

Fuck it. I have no loyalties to this man. My parents were right.

Iwas right.

This was only ever going to end one way.

“I can prove she’s the serial killer,” Lucas whispers, and my blood runs cold.

All my lies are about to catch up to me. And I grit my teeth, ready to fight. For myself. For my freedom. For my heart that’s bleeding all over the bathroom tiles of a man I thought I loved.

He tricked me. And as a single tear slides down my cheek, I applaud his gameplay as much as I’m ready to fucking ruin his life.

Braxton Hero will die tonight.

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