Page 113 of The Viper
Hank's head snapped toward me, his eyes going wide. For a split second, he froze—caught between fight and flight, his brain trying to calculate his odds.
They weren't good.
"Put it down, Hank," I said, my tone dropping lower, colder. "It's over."
His face went pale, confusion mixing with fear. "How do you?—"
"Hank Singleton," I said, taking a step forward. "Fake aviator. Likes the ol’ slight of hand over your drink trick. Friend to three losers who are probably just now waking up in a jail cell with piss-stained pants and broken faces."
That got him. His jaw clenched, the gun wavering slightly in his grip. "You don't know who you're messing with," he spat.
I almost laughed. "Why don't you tell me?"
I took another step, slow and deliberate, watching him mirror the movement—inching backward, away from Lexi. Perfect. Every step he took was one step closer to nowhere.
My eyes flicked to Lexi for half a second. Blood streaked down her arm, her shoulder torn where a bullet had grazed her. But she was standing. Alert. Her eyes met mine, and I gave her the smallest nod.
Everything's going to be okay.
"Look at me!" Hank screamed, his voice cracking with crazy. "I said look at me!"
I did. And that's when I started to understand.
"Let me guess," I said, my voice calm, almost conversational. "Good looks only got you so far, right? Pretty face, decent build, but no substance. Then someone came along and offered you a way to matter. To be seen. They wanted you to harass Lexi Montgomery, and you jumped all over it. For what—attention? A shot at fame?"
His face twisted, anger and something darker bubbling to the surface. Then he smiled. It was the kind of smile that made my trigger finger itch. But I wasn’t ready to blow his head off in front of Lexi.
"You think you're so smart," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "But you don't know shit."
"Enlighten me."
He laughed—a sharp, manic sound that echoed off the walls. "It was Hannah Montgomery who hired me," he said, the words landing like a bomb. "Your precious Lexi's perfect little sister. She's the one who wanted this. She's the one who set it all up."
My eyes cut to Lexi. Her face went even paler, but she didn't deny it. She nodded, just once, confirmation settling like a stone in my gut.
Hannah.
The pieces clicked into place—the attack at her house, the phone call Lexi had overheard, the way Hannah had been on edge. She'd been pulled into this, or maybe she'd pulled herself in. Either way, she was tangled up in it, and now she was in a hospital bed fighting for her life.
I forced my focus back to Hank. "You're right," I said. "I didn't know that. But it doesn't change anything. No one's been seriously hurt yet. You walk away now, cooperate, and there's a chance you don't spend the rest of your life in a cell."
"Hurt?" He laughed again, louder this time, his voice rising into a shriek. "You think I care about that? You think any of this matters?"
He took a step back, his body vibrating with rage. I tracked his position, noting the angle, the distance, the way his hand shook on the gun. He was spiraling, losing control.
"I've got friends!" he screamed. "Friends in high places! They'll get me out of this. Lexi and all you fucking Danes can go fuck yourselves!"
He kept going, the words tumbling out in a torrent—threats, delusions, grandiose claims that he was untouchable. He really believed it. He thought someone was going to swoop in and save him, like this was some movie where the villain gets rescued in the final act.
That gave me pause.
"Who?" I asked, my voice cutting through his rant. "Who do you think is going to save you?"
His eyes went wild, pupils blown wide. "Someone bigger than you," he spat. "Bigger than Miss Hotshot over there. Biggerthan the fucking Danes. You're all small-time compared to them. They know everything about you, Lucas Dane."
My blood went cold.
Not because I was scared. Because I believed him.
