Page 80 of Cain
“Is that a threat, Mr. Manson?”
I blink and remain silent; I merely let my gaze linger on his eyes for a bit longer.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. He’s funny, actually.
I glance at my watch. “Are we done here?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. He doesn’t like that I’m not playing by his rules. But rules only matter to people who need them.
“For now.”
I nod once and step back into the doorway. “Ladies, have a good one.” I shut the door.
Out of all the sins tied to my name, all the blood staining my hands, I never thought Katerina would be the one they came looking for.
Is it …? Fuck, it can’t be him.
I pull out my phone and check the cops through the surveillance system. They’re finally leaving.
“Boss?” Landon comes closer. “What did they want?”
“They were just poking around. They think they’re looking for something. But they won’t find it.”
“Do you want me to handle them? Make sure they don’t come back?”
“Don’t waste your time on them. You have better things to do.”
I catch the flash of disappointment in his eyes. It kinda makes me want to laugh. He’s always hungry for blood, as if it’s the only thing that keeps him from falling apart. But that’s not my problem right now.
“Whatever you say,” he mutters, without pushing me further. He’s not stupid. He just likes the work.
I can’t stop thinking about it. Why the hell are they looking for her here? Why now, after all this time?
“Landon?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
His gaze sharpens, waiting for more. “Yes, boss?”
I glance away for a second, trying to piece it together in my head. “You think he’s behind all this?”
Landon shakes his head. “He wouldn’t drag the cops into it.”
I consider that. It doesn’t feel right, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. Still, something gnaws at me. I need more answers. “One way or another, I need to see for myself. I need to meet with that Emily.”
“I can handle it.”
My eyes lock onto him. “No. I said I will. I need to see for myself what the fuck she told the cops.”
Landon’s expression hardens. “And what if she’s a danger?”
I step closer, tucking my hands in my pants pockets. “Then I’ll eliminate the threat.”
What have I done?
I am his.
I am his aftermyconsent, aftermydemand. But consent is a fragile thing, isn’t it? A word spoken in a moment drowned in the weight of his knowing. He knew it from the beginning, and now I do, too.
He wasn’t waiting for me to cross the line. He was waiting for permission to erase it.
