Page 20 of Queen of The Reapers
“What? No. I didn’t. She just learned about everything last night.”
Ezra gives Tristan a look and I can see the cogs turning in my twin’s head. He whips out his cellphone and starts typing while I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
“What’s with the fucking fifth degree?” I ask, confused by the sudden turn of events.
“I know that girl, Cy.” Ezra says, nervously flicking his zippo open and shut. “I’ve ‘seen’ her before.”
The way he emphasizes the word ‘seen’ is like a punch to the gut. By ‘seen’ he means fucked. Ezra fucked Hannah.
“That’s impossible.” I say, shaking my head so hard my vision blurs. “She isn’t from here.”
“Not here,” he says, pausing as if he’s debating whether he should reveal more, “at The Devil's Disciples’ clubhouse in L.A.”
The room feels suffocating and I shoot up from my seat to try to get more air into my lungs.
“She’s a Haven girl?” Atlas asks, his features morphed in disbelief. His eyes flash back and forth between the two of us, almost as if he can’t believe what's happening.
By Haven girl, he means the sex workers The Devil's Disciples hand-select to live beneath their clubhouse. Against Oleg and pretty much everyone at The Organization’s wishes, The Devil’s Disciples have been covertly dabbling in sex trafficking. It’s all hearsay, but in a club under Dimitri Evanoff’s leadership, I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“No.” I say, refusing to believe anything he’s saying. “No fucking way. She’s living at the fucking Ritz Carlton. How do you explain that?”
“You need to ask her s… some questions.” Tristan says, clicking on the flat screen and switching to the security camera’s live feed. “S… starting with, what the fuck she’s doing in Atlas’ study?”
After discovering the truth about Hannah, my brothers left me alone to deal with her. Instead of trying to catch her in the act, I decide to wait and see what she does next. There’s nothing in Atlas’ study that would be of any use to anyone anyway, and as I watch her take more pictures and send more texts, my anger only grows. How the hell could I have been so stupid? She was never my dream girl. She was just an intricate lie, constructed to hit me where it hurt.
I hear her delicate footsteps descending the stairs and I quickly shut-off the footage. I’ve seen more than enough.
“Where is everyone?” She asks, assessing the empty living room with a frown.
Rage licks across my skin, and it takes everything in me to stop myself from screaming at her. Like she gives a shit. I wanted to draw it out and lead her to a confession, but fuck it. Let’s cut right to the chase.
“Who hired you?” I snarl, glaring at her through narrowed eyes.
“What?” She responds, blinking rapidly. “I don’t have a job yet. I’m still getting settled in…”
I smirk and release a callous laugh. She wants to keep up the charade, huh? Well, fuck that. I’m in control now and she’s about to see the side of me I always kept hidden from her. The part of me that helped solidify my reputation as one of the most ruthless assholes in this entire city. The Reaper is surfacing, and he’s hungry for blood.
“Enough!” I demand, cutting her off. “You know what the fuck I’m talking about. Who. Hired. You.”
Her eyes dart around the room like she’s looking for a savior. Someone to come save her ass in the knick of time. Unfortunately for her, the only man that would’ve come to her rescue is me, and I have no intention of letting her deceitful ass go.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says, slowly inching back towards the foyer.
She reeks of desperation and I smile to myself as her well thought-out facade falters. Sticky sweat coats her forehead and a vicious sneer overtakes her once beautiful face. I see her now, truly see her, and she’s nowhere near as strong as I thought. Her fidgety hand reaches for her purse and I can’t help but bark out another laugh at her pathetic attempt to call for help.
“Make another move and I’ll kill you.” I say, removing my gun from the hostler on my hip.
A tremor overtakes her body and I flash her a shit-eating grin as I level my gun at her chest.
“Y-you wouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head in denial. “You love me. ”
“No. I thought I loved you.” I say bitterly. “Big fucking difference. Now tell me; who hired you?”
I cock my gun to prove my point. I don’t need her answer. By now, Tristan has hacked into her cellphone and traced the numbers back to whichever asshole fucked with us. But something deranged inside of me wants to hear it come from her deceitful lips. I have my suspicions given our not-so-pleasant history with Dimitri, but we have to be sure before we make a move. The organization doesn’t take intergang conflict lightly.
“He loves me.” She screams. “If you harm a single hair on my fucking head, he’ll kill you!”
The next few seconds happen so fast, my mind has a hard time keeping up.
