Page 107 of The Contract

To be certain.

To know for sure.

I asked Fate for a worthy conquest. Fuck me, she served up an apocalypse on a silver plate.

I could’ve played this out all night.

Teased her with stolen glimpses—a half-step closer, the phantom curl of a smile. Watched her twist and spiral, balanced perfectly on that knife-edge between terror and temptation…

When what she really should’ve been doing was slamming every fucking deadbolt in the door.

But then—buzz.

A sharp vibration slices into my palm. Irritating. Intrusive. Two very good reasons to kill someone.

I glance down at the text.

And just like that, my fun’s over.

For now.

Declan

VIP Invitation: Auction.

Dante’s Inferno.

Perfect.

CHAPTER 35

Riley

You wanna dance, motherfucker? Let’s go.

I grip the hairspray tight, finger on the nozzle. Pulse roaring, eyes narrowed to razor slits. A fighting Scotsgirl’s ready to throw down.

I feel Da’s presence in my bones, massive and merciless, his fight fusing steel into my spine. Stone into my strength.

I rip the door open, adrenaline burning like jet fuel. I hit the spray. “Die, motherfucker!”

“What the fuck?” comes the sputtering voice, choking on a mouthful of aerosol.

The voice is sharp, amused, and infuriatingly female.

Worse yet, she’s giggling.

“Mila?” I rasp, adrenaline curdling like sour milk. Then, purely out of spite, I hit the nozzle again, delivering one final, petty burst. “You scared the absolute shit out of me.”

She coughs again, a hand slicing through the lingering chemical haze, eyes watery—from laughing.

“Seriously, Riley?” Her lips curl into a vicious little smirk, amused. “You hang up on me, you get what you get.”

She snatches the can from my grip, scrutinous eyes cataloging every neon-bright disaster on my face. Puffy eyes. Blotchy skin. The raw, brutal aftermath of a good, soul-shredding cry.

I brace myself for Mila’s psychological warfare—death by a thousand invasive, spill-the-tea questions.

Instead, she swerves sharply around the massive elephant in the room, steering us straight into oncoming traffic.

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