She giggles and skips away, satisfied that she taught me a valuable lesson for the day.
“I’m gonna kill her,” I wheeze, straightening and shooting another round of daggers into the corridor she disappeared through. Another cough bursts from my throat. “After I catch my breath, though,” I rasp, dropping to the checkered tile with exhaustion.
I’ve been sparring with her and Zade every day, all day. Between the two of them, I’d be happy to take the coward’s way out and poison them in their sleep just so a girl can get some peace and quiet.
However, I can’t lie and say that I’m not slowly becoming a badass.
The past month has been full of ups and downs. Zade was forced to buy a new car since his was not only identified at Satan’s Affair when Sibby was caught but now as a getaway car for her this time.
Thankfully, Zade never puts anything under his name, so they still weren’t able to identify him. Regardless, driving it is no longer safe, and for a second there, I thought he was going to have a memorial for the damn thing.
The USBs that Sibby stole from Jimmy were useless, and due to her being caught outside of his office, his paranoia got the best of him, and he trashed everything.
Normally, it could be chalked up to happenstance that she was outside of his building, but Claire is well aware of the connection between Sibby and Zade, considering her husband was one of their victims, which means Jimmy is aware, too.
Hence, why all of his devices were wiped and discarded, including the jump drives. Zade saw it coming, though, and sent one of his mercenaries into Jimmy’s house to plant extra USBs in his home office.
It paid off.
Two weeks ago, Zade got an alert that Claire had connected one of his drives to her laptop. All of her previous employees are in the thick of their lawsuits against her, and it’s safe to say Jimmy’s hair has turned two shades whiter. There’s no expectation for them to win, but Zade has made sure to compensate them already for their time and effort. They all have stable jobs and protection from Claire now.
Since then, our time has been spent decoding her messages and pulling as much information as possible from her business dealings. We were able to pin her location on a remote island on the other side of the world. We’re going over the best way to draw her out from it, but Zade wants to get as much intel on the Society before we kill her.
It was daunting to learn that Claire’s influence runs much deeper than we’d ever imagined. She has her hands in everything. Charities, hundreds of thousands of organizations and businesses, banks, big pharmas and the medical industry, the judicial system, and of course, the entire fucking government. It will take years to undo all the damage she’s done and erase her influence.
“I’ll help you kill her,” Daya says, sitting next to me and crossing her legs. “But first, Francesca. So after she a
nd the waitress collided, Francesca threw a huge fit and slapped the woman. Authorities were called, but Rocco strong-armed their way out of the diner and into their rusty brown Chevy Impala. They took off, and I was able to track them all the way back to the motel they’re staying in.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe, eyes wide. “You fucking found them.”
She grins. “Showtime, baby.”
I’m jittery as fuck.
I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.
You can do this, I tell myself, then immediately turn my attention to the She-Devil above.
Right, God? Tell me I’m right.
Zade and I hopped on his private jet within twenty-four hours of finding out where Francesca and Rocco had been hiding. Since he has mercenaries in every state, he had one of them get a car ready for us at the airport, and an hour later, I'm standing outside their door.
And slightly panicking.
The motel I’m standing in front of looks like it comes straight out of Bates Motel. Run-down and owned by a serial killer.
The siblings have been staying here for the past three nights, and the vindictive part of me is overjoyed by it. My former groomer has always lived in filth but would walk around like she was dripping in money and class. She wanted nothing more than to live lavishly but was forced to stay in a shitty house with her brother by Claire’s demand.
The house’s location was perfect for hiding girls and hosting the Culling, so Claire wouldn’t allow her to relocate somewhere nicer—something Francesca would complain about often. So instead, she sank all her money into her wardrobe to give off the illusion that she was thriving.
And this… this is the bottom of the barrel when it comes to filth.
Just as the bitch deserves.
“Room service!” I call out, rapping my knuckles on the red door.
Shouting can be heard from inside, but they’re not any louder than the domestic violence case two doors down.