Page 122 of Fearless Sinner

“Oh God, Cillian.” She looks like she’s going to wither away. “Adrian has my mother. It’s him. He’s Lance Polinsky.”

Holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The knowledge feels like a sledgehammer to my gut. Lance is Adrian. That’s why I fucking recognized the voice and his movements, but I couldn’t place him.

That motherfucking asshole played this game so well. There’s no way I would have guessed it was him.

“Damn it.”

“He made me choose. He wanted me to kill you, or he’d kill my mother. I’m so sorry.”

I catch her face. “You chose me. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I came here with the poison.” Her breath hitches. “I brought it into the house. I said yes, but I thought if I could get to you, you’d help me.”

“You did the right thing. Morgulis septum stasis. You remembered.”

She nods. “I didn’t know what else to do. I figured if I said that, you’d know something was wrong.”

“And I did. I’m going back to deal with him.” Rage unlike any I’ve ever known floods my soul.

“No.” She grabs on to my shirt. “I have to go back. If I don’t, he’ll kill her. He told me to come back, so I have to.”

“I can’t put you in that kind of danger.” This was the very thing I worried about.

“Cillian, this is my mother.” Her voice trembles. “I can’t risk her life. I have to go back. Please tell me you understand that. If I don’t go back, he’ll know something is wrong. He may already know.”

I throw my fist into the wall. Pain shoots through my knuckles, but at the same time, an idea sparks. She’s right. She has to go back. I have to send her back to the lion’s den to get her and her mother out of danger.

“We’ve only been in here for two minutes at the most.” I glance at my watch. “But we have to work fast.”

She nods with determination. “Yes.”

“Stay here.”

I rush out of the bathroom and head back into the bedroom, my mind working overtime.

I have a bottle of the same wine Chloe brought in the drinks cabinet I keep in here, so I get that. The next thing I grab is a little poison kit from my emergency kit. Every member of the Creed has one of these. This is the kind of shit you pray you never have to use. The kit contains a deadly poison called The Whistler, along with the antidote. You’re supposed to take it with you when you’re called on an assassination mission.

I’ve never been called on such a mission, so I never had to use it, but this is hopefully going to help me take this motherfucker down. I’m going to give Lance—fucking Adrian—a taste of his own fucking medicine and use his plan against him. That fucker.

I return to Chloe and close the door, so our voices are hidden again.

“This is my bottle of wine,” I whisper. “Did he tell you anything about the poison?”

“He said it would work within an hour.”

Slow poisoning. “Good. Here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going out on the landing. I’m going to pour us each a glass of wine. I’ll drink mine, but you need to act like you’re not drinking yours because you know it’s poisoned. You hear me?”

“Okay.”

“And this…” I hold up the poison kit. “This part is very important, Chloe. This is a poison. Don’t get this wrong.”

She gulps. “You have poison?”

“Yes. We’re going to try and trick him. This is the antidote. Take this now. It’s good for five hours.” I pull out the little tablet and show her.

“Me?”

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