Page 105 of Liar

“From this point on, I’m the one who will keep you safe. Understood?”

“Same goes, buster.”

A sound hits the top of my throat. One I’ve never made before. An amused snort? How the fuck has this girl affected me so much?

“If I’m smart enough to follow your father’s blockchain footsteps, I’m smart enough to elude detection just as much as you,” she retorts.

“Fair enough.”

After a few moments of hearing the comforting slap of water against tile, Ember says, “Well? Are we going to do this?”

I stroke a thumb across her cheek. Stare pointedly at the black lines at the bottom of the pool. Then grin. “Let’s fucking bankrupt my father.”

Epilogue - Ember

6 Months Later

Undisclosed Location

“Well?” Thorne asks me as I follow the well-worn path toward him, framed with seashells and dried seaweed. “How’d it go?”

“Mom and Dad are still pissed and concerned, but I think they’ve finally accepted I can’t return for a while.” I sit down beside Thorne in the warm sand, tipping my head back to enjoy the salted ocean breeze. My long hair tickles my bare chest, and I wriggle slightly at the sensation. “All they want is for me to be safe, and as long as I keep in touch with them as much as I can, I think they’ll be okay.”

Thorne catches a piece of my hair, twirling it. “You’re doing the safest thing, distancing yourself from them. This isn’t permanent.”

I nod, though sadness threatens to overwhelm me. It’s been difficult these past months, being apart from my adoptive parents—this time willingly—while also dealing with the realities of my birth. Malcolm’s rape. My birth mother’s callousness. My black market sale. Without some expensive therapy, it’s been a lot to deal with, but Thorne’s become a wonderful sounding board, having his own demons to exorcise, too.

We’re a wonderful, fucked-up pair. One of the first moves he made before we departed was to delete our sex tape while I watched, his oath that when he hurts me in the future, it’ll be with my willing awareness, hot on his lips.

I move behind Thorne so he can splay between my legs and lay his head against my chest. He allows a full view of his scars now, though it took a lot of coaxing … and yes, sir’s on my part until he finally caved and let me coat those scars with fresh scratches—like I could help X them out.

We look out into the impossibly turquoise ocean, flattened with low tide and my view framed with curving palm trees, their fronds fluttering in the gentle wind.

Sighing, I lay my chin on top of his head and close my eyes.

He leans into me, wrapping his arms around my tanned thighs. Somehow, he’s retained his paleness while my skin has darkened into a golden glow with all the time we spend at the beach.

I’m not surprised at Thorne’s resistance to the sun, though. Born in fire, demons can’t burn.

“I hate to ruin this moment, but there’s been a sighting,” Thorne says.

“Oh?”

“Mexico City, a man matching the description of my father was seen attempting to purchase opioids without a prescription.”

“That’s … ironic.”

“It gets better. The witness states he was unwashed, covered in overgrown facial hair and smelling like used cat litter, of all things.”

“We knew this would happen.” I massage his shoulders, activating the scent of coconut moisturizer from my hands. “That it might take a while for him to surface despite our siphoning of his funds and him making the Most Wanted list.”

Cryptocurrency is a funny, dangerous way to keep your life savings if that’s the route you choose. Unlike banks and even off-shore banks, where large withdrawals are scrutinized, with the right hacker, you can acquire millions of crypto within two seconds. Once we broke through Damion’s firewalls, hacked his encrypted passwords, and traced the blockchain his transactions left behind, that was all it took—one, two—and we owned Damion’s millions.

His drug organization fell first, his accomplices disbanding and crying ignorance the moment their stores were raided, and they weren’t even paid for their efforts. The spreadsheet I provided Agent Colt helped with that. The rugged agent wasn’t all too happy to learn of my exodus from Raven’s Bluff—to an undisclosed location, no less—but I’ve been appeasing him with breadcrumbs involving Damion’s fentanyl trade and information about the Societies.

I’m not optimistic enough to believe the Societies will be destroyed. There are many chapters, Raven’s Bluff but one. Likely, the members stripped any evidence of themselves from Winthorpe and the surrounding cliffs and made their home elsewhere, continuing with their recruitment and testing those initiates with deadly challenges, all to live a life of watchful, tenuous privilege, until someone like Damion decides you don’t deserve it anymore.

Naturally, Thorne and I are no longer members. He makes noises about finding existing chapters and confirming his theory that not all Noble members are psychotic sadists, but come on—the truth is inside him. He is that psychotic sadist.

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