Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Pavel studies me, then laughs. The sound is cold and mocking. “You really think that’s all this is about? You think a little breakup is all the boss wants?”
My stomach drops, but I don’t let it show. I keep my face neutral, bored even. “You said get her to dump the priest. Seemed pretty straightforward.”
Pavel’s grip on my arm tightens hard enough to bruise. “You always were a stupid bitch. This was never about some fucking priest. This is about the father. About the empire he’s built. About what’s owed.”
My mind races. Bane’s father? Brad Blackwolf? The tech mogul, the self-made billionaire, the man whose face is on the cover of every business magazine, whose name is synonymous with cutting-edge innovation and ruthless corporate tactics?
What could Pavel’s boss possibly want with him?
And then it hits me. The patterns, the connections, the web of relationships that’s been hiding in plain sight.
My father, the Librarian, had been laundering money for years. Billions flew through a network of shell companies, offshore accounts, and legitimate businesses. And one of his biggest clients? The kind of man who needed to clean endless streams of dirty cash while maintaining a squeaky-clean public image.
A tech mogul who built his fortune on the backs of others. Crushing competitors as needed. Stealing innovations to stay at the forefront of technology and silencing any annoying whistleblowers who might crop up. The kind of man who might need ways to hide excess money that couldn’t be explained by stock options and corporate acquisitions.
Brad Blackwolf had been one of my father’s clients. And now either he or someone who’d realized just how lucrative the racket my father had left behind was pulling the strings here. There were always dogs biting at my father’s heels. While the Librarian always had more money than anyone could ever spend in one lifetime, we usually lived like paupers. It was never about the money for him. He was just an evil fuck who loved the job and the power it gave him over important people like Brad Blackwolf.
“Move!” Pavel barks, shoving me forward as the building erupts into organized chaos. Men carry boxes of equipment, weapons, and documents. Screens go dark. Hard drives get yanked from computers.
They’re not just changing locations. They’re erasing all evidence they were ever here.
Which means Moira’s escape has rattled them more than they’re letting on.
Good. Rattled men make mistakes.
As they drag me toward the exit, my mind is already whirring with possibilities. Whoever Pavel’s new boss is, they’ve made a critical mistake in bringing me into this and showing their hand by revealing the connection to Brad Blackwolf.
They should have killed me when they had the chance.
Because now that Moira’s safe, I have nothing left to lose except Domhnall, and I’ve already taken care of that. He thinks I’m a toxic bitch who chose to leave him.
He’ll be in pain. He’ll wallow. It’ll take time.
It’s what little Anna railed against for so long but has been finally forced to accept.
Eventually, when I stay gone, he’ll realize I was never the one for him and move on.
THIRTY-SIX
DOMHNALL
The doorbell rings, jolting me from my spiral of panic and fury. For the past three days, I’ve been existing in a special kind of hell—the kind reserved for men whose lives are crumbling beneath them while they’re powerless to stop it.
It started with that text from Mads about an hour after she left: You were right. We’re toxic. I need space to breathe and think. Goodbye.
But everything about it felt wrong. The wording. The timing. Mads doesn’t just “need space.” When she wants to go somewhere, she tells me where. When she’s upset, she confronts me directly, usually with fire in her eyes and choice words about whatever I’ve done wrong. She doesn’t vanish without explanation.
I’ve called every contact I have. I’ve checked our usual places. I’ve hacked into security cameras on the street by our house, scanning footage for any sign of her. Trying to follow her trail after she left. But I lose track of her in a couple of blind spots in the city.
I’ve barely slept, existing on black coffee and the gnawing fear that something terrible is happening. Every time my phone rings, I lunge for it with desperate hope, only to have it crushed seconds later.
And then Moira disappears too.
At first, I thought they might be together—a spontaneous girls’ getaway they planned without telling me as some sort of twisted little bit of revenge for me being an asshole to both of them. I think that’s still what I’m hoping for now, days later, even as I alternate between pacing the floor, punching walls, and staring at my phone, willing it to ring with news—any news—of either of them.
I’ve been replaying my last conversation with Mads over and over, searching for clues I might have missed. Did she seem scared? Preoccupied? She definitely seemed intent on pissing me off. And fuck if it didn’t work. She’d been talking about Moira right before we got in the fight. Did that mean something?