Page 63 of Toxic B!tch
“You don’t have to be here,” I say, the words coming out softer than I expect, almost... too soft. It catches me off guard.
Malik exhales, sharp, and I see the way his chest rises and falls. He’s struggling with this, I can tell. “I do. If I leave now, I won’t ever understand you. And I need to understand, Indigo.”
His voice is tight, but there’s something raw underneath it. Something I can’t quite place. I nod, stiff, my throat tight. But I don’t say anything more. What else could I say?
The door to the warehouse groans when I push it open. The smell hits me immediately—bleach and ammonia, sharp and chemical, thick in the air. It’s not the first time I’ve walked into a place like this, and it won’t be the last. But the familiarity doesn’t make it any easier. I glance at my phone. 10 PM, exactly.
The figure standing there, half-hidden in the shadows, makes my blood run cold. I know that shape, that stance, the way the light catches the edges of his silhouette.
And my mind slams into overdrive.
No. No, not him.
Malik tenses beside me. I can feel it. His muscles coil like steel, his energy shifting.
The man smirks, tilting his head. “Well, well. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Little Snake.”
The nicknameLittle Snakehits me harder than I expect. I never really batted an eye when he started calling me that, just thinking it was because he could tell my victims were drugged when he cleaned up. Rookie move. But now, it makes so much more sense. He’s watched me drug them, watched as I followedthem from the bar, and knew exactly what I was doing. I had no idea.
Emil. The bouncer. The one who’s been there, lurking in the background all this time. The one who knew, always knew. He was the cleaner.
He’s been cleaning up after me all these years.
I force the word out. “Emil.”
His grin widens, like a snake tasting the air. “It’s about time we know each other’s secrets.”
I want to scream. I want to claw his face off. But my body doesn’t move. I can’t make it move. My mind’s too busy trying to catch up, to make sense of the fact that the man standing in front of me—the one who’s worked beside me for so many nights, the one who’s flirted with me over whiskey—has been hiding in plain sight, cleaning up messes. My messes.
How the hell did I not see this?
“How did I not recognize your voice?” I manage, my throat dry, the words thick in my mouth.
He chuckles, low and dark, and steps closer. The smell of him—a little too much cologne, a little too much sweat—fills my nostrils. “I use a voice changer for work calls. It’s a precaution. Guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets, huh?”
I can feel Malik’s gaze burning through the side of my face, but I can’t look at him. Not now. Not when everything I thought I knew about this world is collapsing around me.
“You set this up,” I say, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension between us like a knife. “All those nights at the bar—you knew who I was. You’ve been playing me.”
Emil raises a brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I had to be sure about you before I made my offer. And what better way than seeing you in action?”
I take a step forward, closing the distance between us, but I’m not sure what I’m even trying to do. My head is spinning.“You’ve been cleaning up after me for years,” I say, but even the words feel hollow.
Emil’s eyes flicker with something—recognition, maybe. Or amusement. “And now I know exactly who you are and what you do.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I force myself to hold his gaze. I won’t let him see me falter. I won’t.
There’s a pause, a long beat, and then he steps closer, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “My real name’s Jake.”
Jake. Of course. It makes sense now. Emil was just a mask. Jake is who he really is. He’s the one who’s been cleaning up my messes, the one who’s been in the shadows, watching, doing the things I didn’t want to. The one I trusted.
I don’t know how to breathe.
“You should’ve told me the truth,” I snap, my voice breaking the air between us.
Jake laughs darkly. “You think I want this? I didn’t ask for this job, Indigo. But when you’re good at something, people take notice. And when you get careless, it’s my ass on the line.” His eyes narrow, and his lips curl into something almost predatory. “You’ve been getting sloppy.”
The sting of his words hits harder than I expect. Sloppy? Me? I’m never sloppy.
