Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Until you figure out who’s behind this, it’s better not to have them in our business, even if they’re on our payroll. Besides—” He jerks his chin toward Violet. “—her sister won’t let this go. She’ll come sniffing around, and when she does…” A rare smirk tilts his lips. “She’s all mine.”
I’m distracted by Preston, who’s poking Violet’s cheek, and I growl as I slap his hand away again.
“Hold on, there’s something about her face.” He tilts his head to the side. “Where have I seen it before? Hmm? Good skin, though. You didn’t by any chance take note of her skincare routine during the stalking side gig, did you, big man?”
I punch him in the chest, and he groans, doubling down. “Fuck! Want to kill me or something? Kaaaane, if I’m not in my best form tonight, blame Jude.”
“Don’t ever touch her again.” I shove him away.
“Fuck me!” He snaps his fingers. “It’s the girl who told you that you’re a disappointing fuck, isn’t it?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“She is! Fucking hell, I’m disappointed I didn’t meet her before the Sleeping Beauty phase. Hey! Wake up, Violetta! I wanna talk.”
I grab him by the arm and start to pull him away.
“Wait! Hold up!!” He tries to fight me. “Let me try scaring her into waking up.”
“Don’t make me punch you again.” I drag him down the hallway as Kane follows behind us with a sigh. “This time in the dick.”
“Not my Armstrong lifeline. You’re so cruel to my highness.” He grins. “On second thought, do it. Curious if Dad will still sigh when his only son can’t continue the family legacy.”
“Just shut it, Pres.” I toss him away because my phone is vibrating.
Lucia.
“Any progress?” I ask as soon as I pick up.
“Good news and bad news.”
“Good news first.”
“We found a DNA match.”
“Who is it?”
“A Vencor Member who’s a hit man of sorts.”
Fuck.
Kane, who’s being pestered by Preston, side-eyes me as I walk at a slower pace.
I clench my fist. “Is it one of Julian’s men?”
I’ve had my suspicions about that motherfucker since he was giving me ultimatums about cutting out the ‘childish, fruitless revenge.’ I suspected he was the one who sent men to kill Violet or scare her that first time Mario got shot.
But there’s one problem with that.
The whole thing is not his style. It’s too showy and in-your-face. Julian doesn’t leave evidence behind, and his hit men are doctors. Just a jab of medicine and people die of nervous system shock or heart attacks.
He prefers controlled and bloodless kills—unlike me and, to my dismay, Regis.
“Are you insulting my intelligence?” Julian looked down at me when I confronted him, throwing the tablet with the security footage to the side. “If I wanted her dead, I’d poison her drink. She’d die in her sleep, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of security footage and witnesses. On the bright side, this shouldn’t be hard if they’re doing such a sloppy decapitation job.”
That’s what Julian called it. Decapitation.
Something we do in Vencor where we cut off the head of the snake so the rest of the body—the organization, other members—will stay in line.
But Violet has nothing backing her.
She was born and has lived as a fucking nobody. When I asked Julian what he meant, he said it was merely a figure of speech.
My brother does not use words in vain. He reads just so he can piss off other people with his pretentious philosophical nonsense or just to call people who read certain thinkers clowns.
But as I’ve been watching Violet sleep whenever Dahlia doesn’t get in the way, I’ve been thinking that if Julian had something to do with her attack and I didn’t stop him… If I brought this upon her…
“He’s not one of Julian’s men,” Lucia says. “As for the bad news, he’s dead.”
“What?”
“Saul was found dead in one of the containers heading to South America the day after the incident.”
“He was rubbed out?”
“It seems so. There are clear signs of poisoning.”
“Fuck!”
“And, Jude?”
“Juuuude.” Preston pulls on my arm. “Kane said I’m annoying. Let’s punch him.”
“What now?” I ask Lucia, fighting Preston off.
Our head of staff speaks as I’m staring into Preston’s grinning face. “Saul was a hit man on the Armstrongs’ payroll.”
20
JUDE
“Is she with you?” Kane’s tired voice floats from the other end of the phone.
My gaze flits to Violet, who’s sleeping on the bed, her fingers twitching, and her body—that’s been sluggish for months—has been shifting, curling, like she does in her sleep.
Three months, to be precise.
It’s been almost three months since Violet was put in a fucking coma.
A false coma.
A drug-induced coma caused by none other than that motherfucker Julian.
The only reason I found out is because I got her out of the hospital.
Kidnapped her—if we’re being technical.
Over the past couple of months, as I was slashing and fucking up most of the targets on my list and ending a few players’ hockey careers to blow off steam, I started to notice patterns.