Page 86 of Undisputed Chaos
That got their attention. Both men paused, turning to me with identical expressions of predatory interest.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, and I felt that familiar rush of having my pack ready to hunt.
"Isla's ex," I clarified, my smile turning sharp as I pictured the fucker's bland, forgettable face.
"Been lurking around her for the past year. Shows up at her exhibitions uninvited, claims he 'understands her art' better than she does. Makes new accounts to watch her stuff. Classic creepy weirdo behavior."
Connor's eyes darkened, and I knew the exact men he was thinking of—the piece of shits we'd turned into fertilizer.
"Same type of problem?"
"Different flavor," I answered, testing the tightness of my hand wraps. "Not violent, just... off. Wrong. Like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit but keeps trying to force itself into the picture."
I pulled up Noah's photo on my phone, showing them the unremarkable face that had dared to upset my angel. "He's the kind of guy who thinks studying someone makes him entitled to them."
Also, the kind of guy who was about to learn why that was a fatal mistake.
Jax rolled his shoulders, tattoos rippling across his muscles. "You want him gone?"
The casual way he asked it, like he was offering to pick up coffee, made me grin wider.
This was why I loved my psychotic brothers. No judgment, no questions, just immediate willingness to help me bury a problem—or body.
I tested the tightness of my hand wraps, my knuckles well-hidden. "Oh, I want to play with him first. Really play."
They exchanged a look—the silent communication that comes from years of murder plans and a mutual understanding of each other's particular brands of crazy.
"What's the plan?" Connor asked, already on board.
I grinned, wide and dangerous. "I'll start with some digital reconnaissance. Kill him before he’s dead.”
I pulled up Noah's information on my phone, scrolling through the data I'd already compiled last night: Social media profiles, workplace details, financial records. I'd dug it up while Isla slept beside me.
That familiar giddy rush built in my chest as I revealed my plan. “First of all, I’m gonna destroy his credit and get him fired. He’ll have no idea how it happened.”
"Since when are you patient?" Jax asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the heavy bag, designer sweatpants soaked with sweat.
"You're the guy who wanted to torch Estelle’s apartment before we even had a plan."
I laughed, my smile turning vicious. "Since I found something worth being patient for."
My eyes drifted to my iPad, where Isla was stretching in her sleep, reaching for the space I'd occupied hours earlier.
"I want to savor this one. Make him feel hunted—in the bad way—before he ever sees me coming."
Connor moved closer, his dark eyes gleaming with the kind of interest that meant someone was about to have a very bad time. "Timeline?"
"A week of digital haunting, maybe two. I want him jumpy.” I grabbed my water bottle, mind racing with delicious possibilities.
"I'm thinking we make him feel watched everywhere he goes…”
I paused, the thrill rushing through me. “Playing some screechingon his phone at night, fucking perfect,” I breathed, almost fanning myself at my perfectly evil plan.
"And the endgame?" Jax asked, though his knowing grin suggested he already knew.
"Oh, that's the best part. He’ll understand exactly what happens to men who make my angel feel unsafe. What you exist in my periphery.”
As if sensing my thoughts, on screen, Isla's hand drifted to the ribbon at her throat, fingers tracing it even in her sleep. Mine. All fucking mine.
