Page 15 of Vengeful King

I can feel goosebumps rising. Everything in me is burning, dying to touch him. But I can’t. Not even to test him. If I do and it goes wrong, it’s over.

So I stay perfectly still and wait.

“Where do you live?”

“Close,” I say, responding immediately. I can feel that he doesn’t want bullshit. I don’t know how much detail he needs, though, and I’m not about to just give him everything. Not when I don’t know what he’s thinking.

He’s still walking around me, slow. He’s at my right shoulder. I can feel his breath against my skin.

“Have you held a regular job before?”

“Yes. I’ve had three jobs since high school. I left the second of my own volition. The third fired me when they decided I spent too much time at the hospital.”

I keep my voice neutral. I don’t want to sound like I’m blaming someone, avoiding responsibility—even if it wasn’t my fault. I want him to know I can keep my shit together.

I think he’ll appreciate that.

He’s at my shoulder now, almost face-to-face with me. “And your mother. What is it?”

“Alzheimer’s. She has to be in a care facility. It takes a lot to keep her safe from herself.”

I don’t see pity in his eyes when he circles to face me. Pity, I’m used to. This is different. He has nothing there other than acknowledgement, like I’ve just told him my address. Like it’s not a big deal.

I almost like it. He’s not being weird about my family story, about the tragedy of it.

His eyes wander down my chest. I can feel my heart swoop, threatening to sink. I can feel what’s coming. I don’t know how it will play out.

He’s looking at my port scar. It’s from the treatments, from when I was fighting cancer. The scar has faded a bit by now, and you could almost miss it from a distance.

But he’s close.

“What’s this?”

I don’t want to tell him.I realize it suddenly, feel it so deep in my bones that it’s startling. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just know that suddenly, I can’t fathom telling him a single thing.

“An accident,” I say. It’s not a lie. The whole thing was an accident, a random stroke of misfortune. At least, that’s what the doctors said.

So young. Such a shame.

He takes my word for it, at least for now. He doesn’t push. He just brings his eyes back up to my face, calm and unwavering. Serious.

“Do you have any drama? Any shit you’re bringing into my club?”

“No.”

It’s true. I don’t have a partner, don’t have family, don’t have anyone who will come looking for me here. Not now. I have no ties left to me except my mother, and she’s sitting in a facility. She rarely remembers my name.

I don’t have drama. You need a life for that.

Lachlan looks me in the eye. “You’ll get a trial,” he finally says. “Two weeks.”

And just like that, all the air in my lungs escapes. I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling my body unravel from the feet up. I feel like everything has been lifted from me, even though I know it’s just begun. This is only the first step.

And I don’t have much time.

But all I need is two weeks. Two weeks, and I’ll find a way to kill him.

CHAPTER6

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